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MEMOIR 



OP THE 



REV. EDWARD PAYSON, D. D 

LATE PASTOR OF THB 

SECOND CHUKCH IN PORTLAND. 

y 

BY ASA CUMMINGS, 

EDITOR OF THE raRISTIA5 MIRROR. 



B^e orasse est bene studuisse Luther. 



THIRD EBZTZOXr. __ 



BOSTON ^ 



PUBLISHED BY CROCKER AND BREWSTER, 

47 Washington Street 

NEW YORK :-.J. LEAVITT, 

182 Broadway. 

^ 1830. 



'-"♦* 



y\^^A ?/ 






District Clerk^a Offiee. 

Be it remembered, That on the twenty-fifth day of February, A. D. 1830, and 
in the fifty-fourth year of the Independence of the United States of America, Mrs. 
Ann L. Payson, of said district, has deposited in this office the title of a book, 
the right whereof she claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit: — 

** A Memoir of the Rev. Edward Payson, D. D. late Pastor of the Second Church 
in Portland. Bene orasse est bene studuisse. — Luther, Shirley Sc Hyde, Printers 
1830." 

In conformity to the act of the congress of the United States, entitled, " An Act 
for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books 
to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned j" 
and also to an act, entitled, "An Act supplementary to an act, entitled, * An Act 
for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books 
to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned ;* 
and for extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etch- 
ing historical and other prints." 

J. MUSSEY, 

Clerk of the District of Maine. 

A true copy as of record, 

Attest, J. MUSSEY, Clerk D. C. JJf«m<. 



STEREOTYPED AT THE 
BOSTON TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDRXi 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



In revising this work for a new edition, the compiler has 
carefully considered the various suggestions for its improve- 
ment which have been offered by his friends. Of these, 
some he has adopted wholly, others in part : from others, 
again, he has felt himself constrained to dissent ; not for 
want of due deference to the judgment which dictated 
them, nor from any partiality for his own ; but partly in 
consequence of remonstrances against the alterations last 
alluded to, proceeding from sources equally entitled to re- 
spect. The ultimate decision, in every case, he supposed, 
should rest with him, whose it is to sustain the responsi- 
bility. The mere critic, however, he never expected to 
please. In estimating a work of this kind, judgment should 
be tempered with devotion. Hence, in deciding on the 
use to be made of the numerous remarks of his friendly 
advisers, who differed widely from each other, he has 
given the preference to the opinions of those, who, other 
things being equal, were, as he had reasons to think, most 
skilled in the science of the heart, and in the practice of 
devotion; "who," in the language of the apostle, "by rea- 
son of use, have then* senses exercised to discern both good 
and evil." Several erasures have been the consequence, 
by which it is hoped the imperfections of the book have, 
been diminished. Some omissions have also been sup- 
plied, and such portions of the work as are most liable to 
abuse, guarded more strongly against perversion. By en 



Jy. ADVERTISEMENT. 

larging the page, the quantity of readmg matter in this 
volume is made to exceed that in the first edition by more 
than twenty pages. 

The general character of the work remains what it was. 
The feature most obnoxious to censure is its melancholy. 
From the detail of desponding feelings, doubts, and temp- 
tations, unhappy consequences to the reader have been 
feared. In giving to these so much prominence, the com- 
piler has probably erred ; still, they could not have been 
wholly concealed, without the sacrifice of historical verity. 
Besides, we are liable to err in judging, a priori^ of the 
effect of such writings. Dr. Payson, contrary to maternal 
fears, was relieved, comforted, and instructed, by reading 
of the melancholy workings of Cowper's mind. We might 
suppose, that such desponding, and, it might almost be said, 
deistical sentiments, as are recorded in the first part of the 
seventy-third psalm, would be very injurious to the reader ; 
whereas their real effect is to give force, impressiveness 
and beauty to the language which follows, so inimitably ex- 
pressive of strong faith in God, and confidence in his provi- 
dential government. In like mamier, should the reader feel 
oppressed by the distressing exercises which are detailed 
in some of the following chapters, let him glance, for a 
moment, to their issue, and find relief in contemplating the 
triumphs of Payson's later days. 

Further ; it may appear on reflection, that there could be 
no adequate exhibition of the degree of Dr. Payson's piety, 
without a corresponding exhibition of the obstacles against 
which he had to contend. That he did triumphantly sur- 
mount them all, is a fact full of encouragement to the 
tempted, desponding Christian. Indeed, it strips persons 
of this description of their last excuse for not persevering 
and rising superior to all difficulties ; for where is the in- 
dividual, whose constitutional hinderances to a peaceful and 
constant progress in piety are more hard to be vanquished, 



ADVERTISEMENT. y 

or more aggravated by bodily maladies ? Who, then, can 
succumb, since he came off victor ? 

It may also deserve consideration, whether the de- 
velopement of sorrows and depressions, as given in the 
former part of this volume, is not, on the whole, necessary 
to "justify the ways of God to men ;" whether it is not in 
agreement with the laws which God observes in the arrange- 
ments of his providence and in the dispensations of his 
grace, that attainments should bear some proportion to the 
efforts by which they were acquired ; that conflict should 
precede victory ; that they who would " reap in joy" 
should "sow in tears?" Now, it is well known that Dr. 
Payson's attainments in religion were far above the ordi- 
nary standard; his spiritual joys transcended, perhaps, 
those of any other tenant of earth. Let the reader, after 
having examined his history throughout, say whether the 
" seed" is disproportionate to the " fruit." 

It does not affect this argument, that many of the exer- 
cises and affections, of which he was the subject, have no 
necessary connexion with religion. Some of them, it will 
be seen in the progress of the work, have been laid out of 
the account, in estimating his personal religion. They are 
too plainly and too bitterly characterized by himself, to be 
mistaken for objects of rational or pious desire. Still, 
however, where they have not a criminal origin, they may 
properly be ranked with other afflictions, which, though not 
good in themselves, are often known to "work out the 
peaceable fruits of righteousness." 

The suggestion also has occurred, whether the records 
which have been transferred to the following pages were 
not specially furnished by Providence to meet an existing 
exigency of the Christian church. The great enterprises 
in which she is engaged necessarily modify the instructions 
of her teachers as well as the duties of her members. They 
are constantly exhorted to action, as indeed they should 



Vi .'ADVERTISEMENT. 

be. It is an active, not a contemplative age. The busi- 
ness of Christians is, in fact, without, among their fellow 
creatures ; not within, in communion with their own hearts. 
These circumstances, conspiring with man's natural aver- 
sion to self-examination, and the paramount difficulty of the 
duty, may bring on a deplorable inattention to the heart ; 
they certainly will, if relative duties be regarded as a sub- 
stitute for private devotion. The church should look to it, 
that the springs of action be not dried up. The benevo- 
lent operations of the day were set in motion by men of 
such deep and heart-pervading piety as Payson's. Such 
piety must continue to urge them onward, or their move- 
ments will be sluggish and inefficient. The two classes of 
duties will here be seen to have received merited attention, 
and their reciprocal influence will be scarcely less ob- 
vious. 

In executing his extremely delicate and responsible task, 
the compiler has had occasion to feel the value of the coun- 
sel and the promise, which are addressed to those who 
^' lack wisdom ;" and can take no praise to himself that his 
errors of judgment have not been more numerous and more 
flagrant. May God attend the perusal of the book, not- 
withstanding its imperfections, with his gracious benedic- 
tion. 

July, 1830. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Page. 

Uses of religious biography. Birth of Edward Payson — ^His early 
impressions ; intellectual qualities ; filial and fraternal conduct ; 
Inoral character — His literary education: ent-ers Harvard Col- 
lege ; his reputation there 1 

CHAPTER n. 

Comprising a period of three years from the time of his leaving 
college 12 

CHAPTER HI. 

His religious history during the period embraced in the preceding 
chapter. 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

Retires to Rindgs, and devotes himself exclusively to his prepara- 
tion for the ministry 56 

CHAPTER V. 
His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry. . . 74 

CHAPTER VI. 

His first efforts as a preacher — His religious character further de- 
veloped 84 

CHAPTER VII. 
Visits Portland — His favorable reception, and Ordination. . . . 100 

CHAPTER VIII. 

His concern for his flock — Reverse in his temporal prospects — Is 
taken from his work by sickness. 114 

CHAPTER IX. 
Resumes his pastoral labors — Letters— Review of the year. . . . 126 

CHAPTER X. 

His dependence on God ; its influence on himself and church — His 
uniform purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him cru- 
cified — Illustration — Letters — Resolutions — Increased success. . 141 



Viii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XI. Page. 

Permanency and strength of maternal influence — Correspon- 
denoe — Death-bed anguish, how alleviated — Disgraceful inci- 
dent — Price of popularity — Reasons of former trials developed — 
Letters, &c 158 

CHAPTER XII. 

Holy aspirations — Gratitude to the Saviour — Multiplied labors — 
Novel family scene — Danger averted — " Curious frame'* — Flat- 
tery deprecated — His marriage — Becomes sole pastor of the 
church — Retrospect of the year 170 

CHAPTER XHI. 

Forms of prayer — Thoughts on public prayer — His sincerity — The 
importance of this quality to a minister's success 187 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The pastor in action — Methods of exciting, sustaining and extend- 
ing a due interest in religious concerns — Preachmg, adminis- 
tration of ordinances, church fast, conference, inquiry meetings. 208 

CHAPTER XV. 

The same subject — Bible class — Pastoral visits — Social parties — 
Special and casual interviews — Charm of his conversation — 
Singular rencounter — Whence his competency — His publica- 
tions 236 

CHAPTER XVI. 

His exertions without the bounds of his parish — Influence on his 
ministerial associates; in resuscitating and edifying other 
churches — Visits " The Springs" — Effect of his example, con- 
versation, and prayers on other visiters — Excursions in behalf 
of charitable societies — Translation of ministers — He is invited 
to Boston and New York 251 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Letters to persons in various circumstances and states of mind. . 266 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

His private character — His affections and demeanor as a husband, 
father, master, friend — His gratitude, economy, generosity-— His 
temper of mind under injuries , . . 291 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Further particulars relating to his personal history, and religious 
exercises, in connexion with his pastoral labors and their re- 
sults 307 

CHAPTER XX. 

His last labors — His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels, and bright- 
ening intellect, during the progress of his disease — His triumph- 
ant exit — Conclusion 344 



MEMOIR. 



CHAPTER I. 

Uses of religious biography. Birth of Edward Payson — 
His early impressions ; intellectual qualities ; filial and 
fraternal conduct; moral character — His literary educa- 
tion : enters Harvard College ; his reputation there. 

If, as it has been wel] observed, '^ the memorials of the good 
constitute one of the most sacred possessions of the Church 
of Christ," — there is an obligation, resting on each successive 
generation of her children, to perpetuate those living evidences 
of Christianity, which have been exhibited by 4,heir most dis- 
tinguished contemporaries. It is not submitted to our choice, 
whether, or not, we will preserve and hand down the charac- 
ters of such as have been eminent in their day for the savor 
and strength of their piety, the ardor and steadfastness of their 
devotion, the consistency and power of their example, and the 
abundance and success of their labors in the cause of their 
crucified King : the duty is imperative. Nor does the value 
of a mere human example depend upon its freedom from im- 
perfection, so much as upon the degree of resistance, which 
its original has overcome in his progress towards ' the mark of 
our high calling.' To secure the object contemplated by such 
a memorial, it is not necessary to hold up the character as 
faultless, — nor even to magnify its excellences, or extenuate 
its defects. A strict adherence to truth, and a just represen- 
tation of facts, will not only be safest for man, but most effect- 
ually exalt the grace of God. That apostle, who labored more 
abundantly than his fellows, recognises it as among the causes 
why* he had obtained mercy, who was before a blasphemer, 
and a persecutor, and injurious, — that he ' might be a pattern 
to them who should hereafler believe.' The heart, alive to 
1 



2 MEMOIR OF 

its guilt and wretchedness, would sink in everlasting despon- 
dency, if it might not revert to the ' chief of sinners,' as among 
the number whom Christ came to save, and who have actual- 
ly obtained salvation. The discouragements arising from in- 
bred sin, in all its countless varieties of operation, would de- 
press the Christian almost beyond recovery, but for the record- 
ed experience of others, weighed down by the pressure of sim- 
ilar burdens, who finally came oif conquerors, * through Him 
who loved them.' From the ' great fight of afflictions,' which 
his elder brethren, who have preceded him in the weary pil- 
grimage, have ' endured,' and the terrible conflicts with pas- 
sion and temptation, which they have survived, he may learn, 
that his case is not singular ; that, however fiery the trial to 
which he is subjected, still ' no strange thing hath happened 
unto him.' There is no unholy bias of the heart, no easily 
besetting sin, no violence of passion, no force of temptation, 
which has not been vanquished by faith in things unseen ; and 
that, too, in circumstances as unfavorable to victory, as any in 
which men now are, or, probably, ever will be placed. Ene- 
mies as virulent and formidable as any that lie in Avait for 
our souls, have been successfully resisted, — trials as disheart- 
ening, and struggles as desperate, as any that await our faith, 
have been met, sustained, surmounted, by men * of like pas- 
sions with ourselves.' ' Out of the depths they cried unto the 
Lord, and were heard ; they overcame through the blood of 
the Lamb.' 

Nor will the benefit be limited to the fervent believer, in his 
spiritual conflicts. These monumental records will meet the 
eye of him, who 'has a name to live while he is dead;' and 
they are adapted, beyond most other means, to break his fatal 
slumber, to excite salutary apprehensions in his mind, and 
fasten there the unwelcome, but needful- conviction, that he 
has * neither part nor lot' in the Christian's inheritance. The 
marked contrast, which he cannot fail to observe, between the 
operations of a mind animated by the Spirit, and glowing with 
the love of God, and those of which he is himself conscious ; 
between the moral achievements of a man, carried forward by 
the steady energies of a purifying faith, and the few and slug- 
gish efforts, which fill up his own history, — can hardly fail to 
reveal him to himself, as one ' weighed in the balance and 
found wanting.' He reads of exertions, which he never put 
forth ; of humiliation and self-denial, which he never practised; 
of confessions, which his heart never dictated ; of exercises, 
which he never experienced; of hopes and prospects, by 
which his own bosom was never gladdened. In the character 



EDWARD PAYSON. 3 

of the determined Christian, he discerns a renunciation of 
self, and a godly jealousy over the workings of the heart, natu- 
rally deceitful above all things, which are totally at war with 
his own self-confidence. lie learns, that, under all varieties 
of outward condition, self-mortification is still an eminent 
characteristic of the follower of Christ; that no man, who 
warreth, entangleth himself with the affairs of this world ; that 
the expectant of the crown of righteousness is no more exempted 
from the agonizing strife to obtain it, than he was in the days 
of primitive Christianity. In the modern believer, if his faith 
be not ' dead,' you identify the grand features of that religion, 
which sanctified, controlled, and supported apostles and 
martyrs. 

The uses of religious biography extend further still. It is 
the means, under God, of attaching to the cause of Zion, men 
of great energy and moral worth, — magnanimous in purpose, 
wise in counsel, vigorous and persevering in action. In how 
many, who have done valiantly for the truth, has the flame of 
holy zeal and enterprise been first kindled at the pages which 
record the religious experience and evangelical labors of Bax- 
ter, Brainerd, Edwards, Martyn, and others of a kindred spir- 
it,— who, but for these memorials, would have been lost to the 
Church of Christ, and perhaps have become her most deter- 
mined ^oes ! The * children of this world' understand the in- 
fluence of such writings, and wisely preserve every thing that 
is memorable in their heroes, philosophers, poets, and artists, 
that youth may emulate their enthusiasm, and act over their 
achievements. And though it may be true, that " modern 
biography has been too busily and curiously employed in en- 
rolling and blazoning names, which will scarcely outlive the 
records of the grave-stone," still " it is not easy to estimate 
the loss, which is sustained by the Christian community, when 
an example of eminent sanctity and heroic zeal is defrauded 
of its just honors, when a living epistle of apostolic piety is 
suffered to perish ; or, to change the figure, when the lamp 
kindled by a holy life, which might have shone to posterity, 
is suffered to go out." ^ 

If Christians in the ordinary walks of life need the stimu- 
lus of such examples, much more does the minister of the cross. 
He has his full portion in the trials and discouragements, that 
are common to all believers ; and his mind is also familiar 
with- causes for '^ great heaviness and sorrow of heart," in 
which they can but feebly sympathize. In addition to his own 
persona, security, he is in a manner responsible for that of his 



4 MEMOIR OF 

flock. Besides working out his own salvation, the care of 
others' souls bears upon him with a pressure which none can 
conceive who has not felt its weight. And when he has toiled 
long and hard, with little or no visible success, and is tempted 
to exclaim^ '* It is a vain thing to serve the Lord !'' or, when 
exhausted by continued labor, and racked by bodily infirmities, 
he is in danger of regarding himself as exempted from the 
obligation to make any further exertions ; it may preserve him 
from sinking, and stimulate him to new action, to know that 
his fellow-laborers in the kingdom and patience of Jesus have 
then been most singularly blessed, when they thought them- 
selves forsaken ; have out of weakness been made strong, and, 
under the endurance of great physical debility, and the most 
exquisite mental anguish, gained the most splendid trophies 
under the Captain of Salvation. Can the " cloud of witnesses" 
of this description be too much increased for the ' consid- 
eration' of those, who are ' wearied and faint in their minds V 
Can any, to whom God affords the opportunity, be excusa- 
ble in neglecting to erect an additional monument in the 
" temple of Christianity," and to conduct thither the despond- 
ing, though uniformly faithful minister, where he may behold 
" the names, and the statues, and the recorded deeds, of the 
heroes of the church, and the spoils they have won in the 
battles of the Lord V 

It is with such views alone, that the present work is attempt- 
ed. The hope, that good results will be realized, is not the 
less confident, because the materials to which access has been 
had, are of the least imposing pretensions. It promises little 
of incident or adventure, — qualities which, with many, con- 
stitute the principal attractions of a book. It is the history ot 
a single mind, rather than of a community ; of a pastor — whose 
sphere of labor was chiefly limited to his parochial charge — 
not a missionary, whose " field is the world," and who has 
traversed seas and continents, and associated his own history 
with that of diflerent climates and governments, and opin- 
ions. The Christian hero will not here be presented in 
direct collision with the principalities and powers of this 
world, whether Pagan or Papal ; but in an attitude not less 
geneirally instructive — that of one ''whose warfare is within," 
and who successfully applied the results of his agonizing 
and joyful experience in training, 

by every rule 
Of holy discipline, to glorious war, 
The sacramental host of God's olect. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



But he will shine, with the brightness of one who has turned 
J3iany to righteousness, in that world where the judgment of 
character, and the estimate of services, are according to 
truth, and not affected by what is dazzling in the stations 
or circumstances in which men have acted. 



Edward Pays on was born at Rindge, New Hampshire, 
July 25th, 1783. His father was the Rev. Seth Payson, 
D. D., pastor of the church in Rindge, a man of piety and 
public spirit, distinguished as a clergyman, and favorably 
known as an author. His mother, Grata Payson, was a 
distant relative of her husband, their lineage, after being 
traced back a few generations, meeting in the same stock. — 
To the Christian fidelity of these parents there is the full- 
est testimony in the subsequent and repeated acknowledg- 
ments of their son, who habitually attributed his religious 
hopes, as well as his usefulness in life, under God, to their 
instructions, example, and prayers — especially those of his 
mother. She appears to have admitted him to the most 
intimate, unreserved, and confiding intercourse, which was 
yet so wisely conducted, as to strengthen rather than diminish 
his filial reverence ; to have cherished a remarkable inquisi- 
tiveness of mind, which early discovered itself in him ; and to 
have patiently heard and replied to the almost endless inqui- 
ries, which his early thirst for knowledge led him to propose. 
His father was not less really and sincerely interested for the 
welfare of his son ; but, from the nature of the relation, and 
the calls of official duty, his opportunities must have been 
less frequent, and his instructions have partaken of a more 
set and formal character. With the mother, however, op- 
portunities were always occurring, and she seems to have 
been blessed with the faculty and disposition to turn them 
to the best advantage. Edward's recollections of her ex- 
tended back to very early childhood ; and he has been 
heard to say, that though she was very solicitous that he 
might be liberally educated, and receive every accomplish- 
ment, which would increase his respectability and influence 
in the world, yet he could distinctly see, that the supreme, 
the all-absorbing concern of her soul respecting him, was, 
that he might become a child of God. This manifested 
itself in her discipline, her counsels, expostulations, and 
prayers, which were followed up with a perseverance that 
1* 



g MEMOIR OF 

nothing could check. And they were not in vain. From 
the first developement of his moral powers, his mind was 
more or less affected by his condition and prospects as a 
sinner. It is amonoj the accredited traditions of his family, 
that he was often known to weep under the preaching of the 
gospel, when only three years old. About this period, too, he 
would frequently call his mother to his bed-side to converse 
on religion, and to answer numerous questions respecting his 
relations to God and the future world. How long this seri- 
ousness continued, or to what interruptions it was subjected, 
does not clearly appear ; nor is much known as to the peculiar 
character of his exercises at that time. But that they were 
not mere transient impressions, seems highly probable from 
the fact, that, in subsequent years, his mother was inclined to 
the belief, that he v/as converted in childhood. There was 
some other cause than maternal partiality for this opinion, 
as she did not cherish it alone. Besides, his intimate friends 
have reason for believing, that he never neglected secret 
prayer while a resident in his father's family. The evidences 
of his piety, however, were, at tliis period, far from being 
conclusive ; he, at least, does not appear to have regarded 
them as such ; neither were they so regarded by his father, 
who had earnestly desired to see him a decided follower of 
the Redeemer, before encountering the dangers to religious 
principle and pure morals, which are sometimes found 
within the walls of a college. 

How far those mental qualities, which distinguished Dr. 
Payson's maturity, were apparent in his early days, cannot 
now be known ; for, though he died comparatively young, his 
parents had gone before him, and their surviving children 
were all younger than this son. Strictly speaking, there- 
fore, no companion of his childhood survives. The very 
few incidents belonging to this period of his history, which 
have escaped oblivion, though not adequate to satisfy curios- 
ity, are, on the whole, characteristic, and afford undoubted 
indications, that his well-known decision, enterprise, and 
perseverance, had dawned even in childhood. 

That he was a minute observer of nature, and highly 
susceptible of emotions from the grand and beautiful in the 
handy works of God, must be obvious to all who have lis- 
tened to his conversation or his preaching. His taste for the 
sublime very early discovered itself During a tempest, he 
might be seen exposed on the top of the fence, or some other 
eminence, while the lightnings played and the thunders rolled 



EDWARD PAYSON. 7 

around him, sitting in delightful composure, and enjoying the 
sublimity of the scene.* 

He is said to have manifested an early predilection for 
arithmetic ; and was a tolerable proficient in the art of read- 
ing at the age of four years — an art, which no man ever em- 
ployed to better advantage. - The surprising quickness, with 
which he would transfer to his own 'mind the contents of a 
book, at a time when a new book was a greater rarity than 
it now is, threatened to exhaust his sources of information 
through this medium. All the books in his father's collec- 
tion, and the *' Parish Library," which were of a character 
suited to his age and attainments, were read before he left 
the paternal home, and retained with such tenacity of memory, 
as to be ever after available for illustrating truths, or enliven- 
ing and embellishing discourse. 

It IS natural to inquire, whether there was any thing in the 
circumstances of his early youth, which will account for his 
mental habitSj and especially the rapidity of his intellectual 
operations. A partial answer may be found in the fact, that 
his time was divided between labor and study. His father, 
like most ministers of country parishes, derived the means 
of supporting his family, in part, from a farm, which his sons 
assisted in cultivating. From his share in these agricultural 
labors the subject of this Memoir was not exempted, particu- 
larly in the "busy seasons" of the year. But, whatever were 
his employment, though he appears to have engaged in it 
with cheerfulness, and to have prosecuted it with fidelity, his 
thirst for knowledge was the ruling passion of his soul. This 
he sought to quench, or rather to cherish, by resorting to his 
book at every interval from toil, however short, when he tasked 
his mind to the utmost of its power, intent on making the 
greatest possible acquisition in a given time. His mind, though 
strung up to the highest pitch of exertion at these seasons, 

*13eaUie's Minstrel, it seems, is not a mere creature of the imagination! 

And oft the crago^y cliff he loved to climb, 

When all in mist the world below was lost. 

What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime, 

Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast, 

And view th' enormous waste of vapor, tost 

In billows, lengthening- to th' horizon round. 

Now scooped m gulfs, with mountains now embossM ! 

And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, 

Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound ! 

In truth, he was a strange and wayward wight, 
Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene. 
In darkness and in storm he found delight. 



S MEMOIR OF 

suffered no injury thereby, as it was so soon diverted from its 
employment by a call to the field ; and every repetition of 
the process extended its capability and povi^er. The acquisi- 
tions, in this vray obtained, fiirnished materials on which to 
employ his thoughts while engaged in manual labor, which 
lie would not fail to digest and lay up in store for future 
use, — a voluntary discipline of most auspicious influence, as 
it respects the facility of acquiring knowledge, and the power 
of retaining it. 

His early literary, as well as moral and religious education, 
is believed to have been conducted principally by his parents, 
except the studies preparatory to college, which were pur- 
sued, in part at least, at the Academy in New Ipswich. — 
His preparatory course was completed before the long and 
fondly-cherished desires of his father respecting his personal 
piety were realized. Still the good man could hardly cherish 
the thought of conferring on his son the advantages of a pub- 
lic education, without an assurance, grounded on evidences of 
experimental religion, that he would employ his attainments 
for the best good of his fellow men, and the glory of his 
Maker. With reference to this essential requisite, he used 
much earnest expostulation, and even went so far as to say to 
him, " To give you a liberal education, while destitute of reli- 
gion, would be like putting a sword into the hands of a mad- 
man." 

Whether the father was led to adopt such strong language, 
from having observed in his son the existence of those proper- 
ties, which, in their future developement, were to give him 
such power over his species, or whether it proceeded merely 
from anxiety to transfer his own feelings and convictions to 
the mind of his son, — there does not appear to have been, in 
either the disposition or conduct of the latter, any particular 
cause for unusual apprehensions respecting him. His filial 
affection and conduct had been, and ever continued to be, 
most exemplary, as manifested by his letters when absent, and 
by his reverence for his parents and cheerful obedience when 
at home. His fraternal feelings were kind, and his conduct 
towards his brothers and sisters faithful and affectionate. By 
them he was greatly beloved, and his vacations, when he 
should visit home, and mingle again in the domestic circle, 
were anticipated with delightful interest, as the halcyon days 
of their lives. His moral character comes down to us, even 
from the first, without a blemish ; and, by consent of all, he 
sustained the reputation of a magnanimous, honorable, gener- 
ous youth 



EDWARD PAYSON. 9 

His father, as is obvious from the event, had formed no 
peremptory and unalterable purpose to wait for the certain 
fruits of personal religion, before sending him to college ; and 
the leal cause of hesitancy w^as, probably, the tender age and 
inexperience of the son. The interval of his detention vi^as a 
favorable season for the application of religious motives. As 
such it was improved by this solicitous parent, and not in vain ; 
for his faithful suggestions and appeals were afterwards recalled 
by the object of his solicitude, with most grateful and impress 
sive interest. Young Pay son, though detained from college, 
was permitted to pursue his studies, — but whether exclusively, 
or in connexion with other employments, does not appear, — 
till he was fitted to join the Sophomore class ; when, all ob- 
jections being waived, he entered Harvard College,^ at an 
advanced standing, at the commencement in 1800, about the 
time he completed his seventeenth year. 

He had now a new ordeal to pass — a severe test for both 
his talents and character. Many a youth, who was regarded 
as a prodigy of genius in his native parish, or in a country 
village, and who anticipated the same eminence at the seat 
of science, has found himself sadly disappointed, in being 
obliged to take his rank below mediocrity. Thus it had 
nearly fared with Payson — not that he was destitute of real 
worth ; but there were circumstances, which prevented that 
worth from being appreciated. The first impressions respect^- 
ing him were unfa^worable. ' You w^ould have taken him, 
says a classmate, for an unpolished, ignorant country lad; 
exceedingly modest, unassuming, and reserved in his man- 
ners. And, as we generally look for a long time at the words 
and actions of a character through the same medium by which 
he was first presented to us, his merit was for a long time 
unknown.' This judging from appearances is, perhaps, una- 
voidable, though often very injurious. In the greenness of his 
youth, Mr. Payson's modesty might easily be mistaken for 
bashfalness ; as through life he had much of a downcast look, 
holding his eyes inclined to the earth, except when warmly 
engaged in conversation ; tlien they would beam most expres-- 
sively ; and when addressing an audience from the pulpit, they 
would " pry through the portals of the head/' and give a thrill- 
ing emphasis to the language of his lips. 

Mr. Payson' s classmate, just quoted, and who also occupied 
the same rooms with him during the whole period of his resi- 
dence at college, bears decided testimony to the purity of his 
morals, and the regularity of his habits, as well as other esti- 
mable qualities With his intimate friends, he was social^ 



10 MEMOIR OF 

communicative, and peculiarly interesting and improving, and 
by those who best knew him, was much beloved. He was 
distinguished for his industry ; his first care always was to get 
his lesson, which engaged him but a short time, and then he 
would resume his reading. He was invariably prepared to 
meet his instructer, prompt in reciting, and seldom committed 
a mistake. His manner of rehearsing was rapid, his tone of 
voice low, with a kind of instinctive shrinking from every thing 
which had the appearance of display. He seems to have been 
regarded as no more than a decent scholar by his associates 
and teachers generally at college ; but '' after having been with 
him a few months, I was convinced that he possessed uncom- 
mon mental powers. Others knew not this, because they 
knew not the man. During the latter part of his collegiate 
course, as he became more known, he rose rapidly in the es- 
timation of both the government and his classmates, as a young 
man of correct morals, amiable disposition, and respectable 
talents." 

The testimony of another classmate agrees with this as to 
the general character of the man, but is more discriminating 
and positive in reference to his merits as a scholar. '' The 
circumstance of joining his class at an advanced standing, 
combined with his naturally retiring and unobtrusive manners, 
contributed, probably, to his being so little known to a large 
portion of his college contemporaries, who seemed scarcely 
aware that his talents were of that high order, by which he 
was soon afterwards so eminently distinguished. Yet, even 
at that early period, he manifested an energy, hardihood, and 
perseverance of character, which were sure indications of suc- 
cess, in whatever course he might eventually direct his pro- 
fessional pursuits. In the regular course of college studies, 
pursued at the time of his residence at Cambridge, he main- 
tained the reputation of a respectable scholar in every branch. 
Intellectual and moral philosophy were more to his taste than 
physical science ; yet he sustained a distinguished rank in the 
higher branches of the mathematics, as well as natural philos- 
ophy and astronomy, at that time so unpopular, and so little 
understood by a large proportion of the students." It is not 
remembered, however, that there was any public recognition 
of distinguished merit in him, at the time he commenced 
Bachelor of Arts. 

The reputation of being '* a great reader," as the phrase is 
often applied, is a very undesirable distinction ; it is one, how- 
ever, which Mr. Payson bore in common with thousands, who 
are not t^^e wiser for th* ir reading. His frequent resort to the 



EDWARD FAYSON n 

college library was a theme of raillery with his fellow students^ 
who, at one time, represented him as having ' a machine to 
turn over the leaves ;' and at another, as * having left off taking 
out books, because he had read all the thousands in the al 
coves of old Harvard/ Ridicule, in his case, was egregiously 
misapplied ; for, says his constant companion in the study and 
in the dormitory, *^ every thing he read, he made his own. — 
He had the strongest and most tenacious memory I ever knew. 
It is truly astonishing with what rapidity he could read ; how 
soon he could devour a large volume, and yet give the most 
particular and accurate account of its contents." Testimonies 
of the same kind might be multiplied, and confirmed by many 
anecdotes, which to a stranger would appear incredible, illus- 
trating the power of this faculty, and the severity of those tests 
to which it was subjected. 



]2 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER 11. 

Comprising a period of three years from the time of his leav- 
ing college, 

Mr. Payson was graduated at Harvard University, at the 
commencement in 1803. Soon after leaving college, he was, 
on recommendation, particularly of Professors Tappan and 
Pearson, engaged to take charge of the Academy then recent- 
ly established in Portland. He continued in this office for 
three years, at the close of which he was, by the terms of his 
contract, at liberty to resign it. Of this liberty his new views 
of duty, at the time, disposed him to avail himself 

An employment, which requires the daily repetition of near- 
ly the same routine of duties, cannot be very prolific in inci- 
dent, or very favorable to the developement of those qualities, 
vi^hich attract the public eye. Nor is it an employment in 
which real worth is likely to be appreciated, except by a very 
few ; though the subject of this Memoir is not thought to have 
had any special cause of complaint, as to the estimation in 
which his services were held. He acquired and sustained a 
good reputation as an instructer ; but from a man possessing 
his characteristics, something more would naturally be expect- 
ed. He was certainly endued with a rare faculty for communi- 
cating knowledge, and with a power to awaken, and call into 
action, the mental energies of either youth or manhood. In 
the existing methods of education, however, there was much 
to obstruct the exercise of this power. The instructer, who 
should do much more than follow the order and manner of the 
text-books then in use, would probably have been regarded as 
an empiric ; besides, the habits of society were then opposed, 
more than they have been since, to every thing which bore the 
appearance of innovation. His native diffidence, also, would 
have operated as a powerful restraint against venturing on any 
bold experiments in a sphere of action and duty, in which, 
judging from the character and attainments of many who had 
filled it, little improvement was to be expected. 

At this period, he was but a youth ; and it is not to be sup- 
posed, that he engaged in the business of instruction, and 
prosecuted it with that all-absorbing interest and determina- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



13 



tion of purpose, which distinguished his ministerial career. 
It is, to say the least, extremely doubtful, whether he had felt 
the influence on human exertion of that principle, which is in- 
dispensable to man's highest achievements — doing all to the 
glory of God, As it was, he is remembered by surviving pu- 
pils with gratitude, respect, and even veneration. He has left 
as will be seen, sufiicient evidence of his deep solicitude for 
their moral and religious welfare, from the time at which he 
was comfortably assured of his own " acceptance in the Be- 
loved.'' 

It would seem, from some allusions in his sermons, as well 
as from hints derived from other sources, that, during the early 
part of his residence in Portland, he indulged himself in such 
amusements as were fashionable, or were considered reputa- 
ble, and that, too, with a gust as exquisite as their most hearty 
devotee — how frequently, or to what extent, the writer is igno- 
rant. This practice, if it were more than occasional, would 
indicate a relish for social pleasures, in the usual sense of the 
expression, which did not long continue ; for, after his serious- 
ness became habitual, he was averse to going into compa- 
ny, even to a fault. He dreaded an invitation to a social par- 
ty, though he had reason to expect nothing there directly 
offensive to religious feelings. But there were companions, 
whose society he sought, and whose intercourse was so regulat- 
ed as to subserve mutual improvement. They were select lite- 
rary friends, some of them his classmates, whose fellowship was 
in a high degree intimate and endearing. With these he pass- 
ed many pleasant and profitable hours, and cemented a friend- 
ship, which continued till death, and which has been faithfully 
reciprocated by the surviving members of the little band, and 
continues to exhibit itself in unfeigned respect for his nrecious 
memory. The exercises of these meetings were not subjected 
to any very rigid and formal regulations, such as would have 
cramped the energies of the mind, or restrained even its wild- 
er sallies. Mutual confidence was the bond of union, which 
no severity of retort or piquancy of raillery could sunder. 
Each brought forward the results of his reading or invention, 
and exercised his powers at discussion or free conversation ; 
and, by this " action of mind upon mind," the most brilliant 
flashes of wit were often struck fi*om one so full charged, and 
so quick at combination, as Pay son's, to the no small enter- 
tainment of his companions. Of these intellectual banquets, 
his contributions were the most coveted and exquisite portion. 

But no distance, employment, or friendships, could weaken 
his attachment to the paternal home, or diminish the strength 
2 



14 MEMOIR OF 

of his filial love. Some extracts from his letters will now be 
given, which, while they exhibit the son and the brother in 
the most amiable light, will serve also to illustrate some of his 
intellectual qualities. They are addressed to his " Ever Dear 
and Honored Parents.'- 

Portland, May 20, 1804.' 

" It is not the least among the distressing circumstances al 
tending the late afflicting dispensation of Providence, that I 
am unable in person to share in your grief, and alleviate, by 
filial sympathy and affection, the keenness of your sorrow. 
I would fain attempt to afford you some consolation ; but the 
only sources, whence it can be derived, are already your own. 
I can only say for myself — it shall ever be my endeavor, that, 
so far as my exertions can avail, you shall not feel his loss ; 
and that we, who remain, will strive to fill, by our increased 
duty, reverence, and affection, the cruel void thus made in 
your happiness." 

January 14, 1805. 

" I congratulate you both on the welcome news, which my 
sister gave me, of your amended health and spirits. Mine, 1 
feel, flow with double rapidity, since I received her letter. I 
witness, in fancy, the happiness of home, and long to partici- 
pate and increase it ; but for the present must be content with 
rejoicing alone. I cannot possibly plead guilty to the charge 
of * not thinking of home, so often as home does of me.' On 
the contrary, I believe home has very little due on that score, 
if we consider the frequency, and not the value, of the 
thoughts. But, my dear Parents, if a few of those thouorhts 
could be imbodied on paper, and sent me, how much more 
good they would do, and how much more pleasure they would 
communicate, than if they were to remain in their native 
place ! 

" I am still without an assistant, and, as the number of stu- 
dents has been increased, my task is very laborious. Howev- 
er, I shall soon be supplied. — Just now I was interrupted. 
It was my assistant. He is young and raw ; but so much the 
better. He will not render me small by comparison. 

" I had a pleasant vacation. All of my classmates, who are 
in the district, five in number, met at the house of one of 
them. The recollection of past scenes was, as Ossian says, 
* pleasant and mournful to the soul.' There is, however, very 
little satisfaction in recalHng past pleasures to mind ; that is, 
what s generally called pleasure." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 15 

'- SepiemJber 8, 1805. 

" The distress I felt at parting with you was soon banished 
by the garrulity of my companion, whose chattering tongue 
for once afforded me pleasure, and, besides, freed me from 
the necessity of talking, for which I felt not very well quali- 
fied. I once thought it was impossible for my filial affection to 
be increased ; but the kindness which first gave birth to it in- 
creases every visit I make, and that must increase with it. 
Were others blessed with friends like mine, now much greater 
would be the sum of virtue and happiness on earth, than we 
have reason to ^qm it is at present. Why cannot other parents 
learn your art oi mixing the friend with the parent? of joining 
fi-iendship to filial affection, and of conciliating love, without 
losing respect? — an art of more importance to society, and 
more difficult to learn, — at least, if we may judge by the rare- 
ness with which it is found, — than any other ; and an art, 
which you, my dear parents, certainly have in perfection. 

" We had a tolerably pleasant journey, and were received 

with kindness by Mrs. , and with politeness, at least, 

by the rest of the family. After the others were retired^ Col. 

kept me up till past eleven, explaining, as well as I 

could, the difference between the various sects of religion, es- 
pecially between Arminians and Calvinists. * * * * 

** We had a long passage, but met with no accident, except 
that I carried away my hat — to use a sea-phrase — that is, the 
wind carried it away, and, there being no one on board that 
would fit me, I was two days on the water exposed to a 
burning sun, without shelter ; in consequence, my face was 
scorched pretty severely." 

" September 20, 1805. 
" I sadly suspect that this plan of numbering my epistles 
will prove your deficiency, and my attention, in a manner very 
honorable to myself, and not very much so to my good friends 
at home. This is my fourth, and not one have I received, 
nor do I expect one this long time. However, I say not this 
by way of complaint. Your kindness, when I was at home, 
proved your affection beyond a doubt ; and if I should not re- 
ceive one letter this year, I should have no right to complain. 
Yet, though not of right, I may of favor entreat for a few oc- 
casional tokens of remembrance. I have as yet scarcely recov- 
ered from the inflation and pride your goodness occasioned. 
The attention I received led me. to suppose myself a person 
of no small consequence ; however, a month's dieting on cold 
civility and formal politeness will, I hope, reduce me to my 
former size. In the mean time, I am convinced that my 



15 MEMOIR OF 

situation here is not so much worse than any other as * 
imagined." 

The following letter describes a scene in a stage-coach. 
Those who have witnessed the writer's unequalled command 
of language, and power to accumulate facts and imagery to 
give it effect, will most readily conceive of the overwhelming 
torrent of satire, which he must have poured forth on the oc- 
casion described. Travellers have often brought themselves 
into a highly mortifying dilemma by allowing free license to 
their tongues among strangers. It was happy for the hero in 
this adventure, that he expended his forces upon a legitimate 
subject of raillery. 

" Portland, Oct. 8, 1805. 
" My dearest Father, 

"In hopes of rescuing you one moment from the crowd of 
cares and occupations which surround you, 1 will give you an 
anecdote of my journey ; and if you condescend to smile over 
it, why so much the better. When seated in a company of 
strange phizzes, I immediately set myself to decipher them, 
and assign a character and occupation to the owner of each. 
But in the stage which conveyed us to B*****, there was one 
which completely puzzled me. I could think of no employ- 
ment that would fit it, except that of a ******* representa- 
tive, unless it was that of a **********^ whose pride, being 
confined in B. by the pressure of wealth and talents, had now 
room to expand itself A certain kind of consequential gravi- 
ty and pompous solemnity, together with his dress, might 
perhaps have impressed us with respect, had not a pair of 
'Tough, callous hands, with crooked, dirty nails, lessened their 
effect. During a pause in the conversation, he presented me 
with a paper, which, on examination, I found to be one of 
those quack advertisements, which Mr. **** has honored with 
his signature. Not suspecting, in the least, that the good 
gentleman had any concern in the business, and feeling a fine 
flow of words at hand, I began to entertain my fellow travellers 
with its numerous beauties of expression, spelling, and gram- 
mar. Finding them very attentive, and encouraged by their 
applause, I next proceeded to utter a most violent philippic 
against quacks of all denominations, especially those who go 
about poisoning the ignorant with patent medicines. I could 
not help observing, however, that my eloquence, while it had 
a powerful effect on the muscles of the rest of my companions, 
seemed to be thrown away on this gentleman aforesaid. But, 
concluding that his gravity proceeded from a wish to keep up 



EDWARD PAYSON. I7 

his dignity, I resolved to conquer it ; and commenced a fresh 
attack, in which, addressing myself entirely to him, I poured 
forth all the ridicule and abuse which my own imagination 
could suggest, or memory could supply. But all in vain. The 
more animated and witty I was, the more doleful he looked, 
till, having talked myself out of breath, and finding the longi- 
tude of his face increase every moment, I desisted, very much 
mortified that my efforts were so unsuccessful. But, in the midst 
of my chagrin, the coach stopped, the gentleman alighted, and 
was welcomed by a little squab wife into a shop decorated with 
the letters, "Medical Cordial Store." I afterwards learnt 
he is the greatest quack-medicine seller in B. Excuse me, my 
dear father, for this long, dull story. I thought it would be 
shorter. I feel rather out of tune for embellishing to-day. 

" We have lately been in a hubbub here about a theatre. Af- 
ter a great deal of dispute, the town voted, to the astonishment 
of all, that they would not, if they could help it, suffer the es- 
tablishment of a theatre. - One man said, and said publicly, 
that he considered it as much a duty to carry his children to a 
play-house, as he did to carry them to meeting, and that they got 
more good by it. Among the arguments in favor, it was as- 
serted, that, though bad plays were sometimes acted, bad ser- 
mons were likewise preached, and that the pulpit ought to be 
pulled down as much as the theatre. — Adieu, my dear father, 
and believe me your most affectionate son, 

Edward Payson." 

'' October 29, 1805. 
" I must, my dear mother, give you some account of my 
comforts. In the first place, I have a very handsome cham- 
ber, which commands a delightful view of the harbor, and the 
town, with the adjacent country. This chamber is sacred; 
for even the master of the house does not enter it without ex 
press invitation. At sunrise, a servant comes and lights up a 
fire, which soon induces me to rise, and I have nothing to do, 
but sit down to study. When I come from school at night, I 
find a fire built, jack and slippers ready, a lamp as soon as it is 
dark, and fuel sufficient for the evening. An agreement with 
a neighboring bookseller furnishes me with books in plenty 
and variety. The objection to our meals is, they are too 
good, and consist of too great a variety. And what gives a 
zest to all, without which it would be insipid, is, that 1 can 
look round me, and view all these comforts as the effects of 
infinite, unmerited goodness ; of goodness, the operations of 
whic/i I can trace through all my past life ; of goodness, which 
3* 



18 MEMOIR OF 

I humbly hope and trust will continue to bless me, through ah 
my future existence." 

'' November 18, 1805. 
"My dear Mother, 

" I last night witnessed a scene, to which I had before been 
a stranger ; it was a death-bed scene. A young gentleman of 
my acquaintance, and nearly of my own age, had been confin- 
ed thirty-two days, and I was requested to watch with him ; 
and a more exquisitely distressing task I hope never to under- 
take. When I went, there was little, if any, hope of his life. 
His mother — whose favorite he deservedly was — though she 
is, I believe, a sincere Christian, seemed unable to support the 
idea of a separation. Fatigue and loss of sleep made her light- 
headed ; and, at times, she raved almost as badly as the pa- 
tient. His sister, a gay, thoughtless girl, was in a paroxysm of 
loud and turbulent grief; while a young lady, whom he was 
expecting to marry, heightened the distress by marks of an- 
guish too strong to be concealed, and which seemed to flow 
from tenderness equal to any thing I have met with in ro- 
mance. As I had seen nothing of the kind before, its effects 
on my feelings were irresistible. The perpetual groans and 
ravings of the dying — whose head I was for hours obliged to 
support with one hand, while I wiped off the sweat of death 
with the other ; the inarticulate expressions of anguish, min- 
gled with prayers, of the mother; the loud and bitter lamenta- 
tions of the sister ; the stifled agonies of the young lady, and 
the cries of the younger branches of the family, {the father 
ivas asleep !) formed a combination of sounds which I could 
scarcely support. Add to this the frightful contortions and 
apparent agonies of the poor sufferer, with all the symptoms of 
approaching death. About two o'clock, he died. I then had 
the no less difficult and painful task of endeavoring to quiet the 
family. The mother, when convinced he was certainly dead, 
became composed, and, with much persuasion and some force, 
was prevailed upon to take her bed, as were the rest of the 
family, except the young lady. 

*' I had then to go half a mile for a person to assist in laying 
out the corpse, in as bitter a storm as ever blew ; and, after this 
was done, watched with it the remainder of the night. You 
will not wonder if I feel, to-day, exhausted in body and mind. 
Surely there is no torture like seeing distress without the 
ability of removing it. All day have I heard the dying groans 
sounding in my ears. I could not have believed it possible, 
that any thing could take such astonishing hold of the mind ; 
and, unless you can remember the first death you ever witness- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 19 

ed, you can never conceive how it aifected me. But, distress- 
ing as it was, I would not for any thing have been absent. — 
I hope it will be of service to me. It is better to go to the 
house of mourning than to the house of mirth. Grief has a 
strong tendency to soften the heart, and dispose it to gratitude 
and other affections. An instance of this I saw in this family. 
They are so grateful to me for — I donH know what — ^that they 
seem unable to thank me enough." 

^'January ^5, 1806. 

*' I had a letter from ****** last evening. He is in the 
West Indies, and has just recovered from a fever. His letter 
is more friendly than any I have received, but it is not so se- 
rious as I wish. You prophesied, when I was at home, that 
our friendship would not last long ; but since it has survived a 
visit to the Cataract of Niagara, to Saratoga Springs, and a 
voyage to the West Indies, it is something of a proof that 
many waters cannot quench, neither floods drown it. 

"A classmate, who has commenced preaching, called last 
w^eek to see me. Speaking of an old tutor of ours, a very 
pious man, who has lately lost a much loved wife, he men- 
tioned a letter written by him while the bell was tolling for 
her funeral, in which he says, '* The bell is now tolling for 
my wife's funeral ; yet I am ha,ppy, happy beyond expression." 
This my classmate considered as a sure proof of a very weak 
or very insensible mind. It is needless to add, that he is an 
Arminian. I daily see more occasion to be convinced, that 
the Calvinistic scheme is, must be right, but I cannot wonder 
so few embrace it. So long as the reasonings of the head 
continue to be influenced by the feelings of the heart, the ma- 
jority will reject it." 

''February^, 1806. 

- *' You need be under no apprehension, my dear mother, 
that my present mode of living will render the manner of liv- 
ing in the most rustic parish disagreeable. On the contrary, 
I shall be glad of the exchange, as it respects diet ; for I find 
it no easy matter to sit down to a table profusely spread with 
dainties, and eat no more than nature requires and temperance 
allows. And I should take infinitely more satisfaction in the 
conversation of a plain, unlettered Christian, than in the un- 
meaning tattle of the drawing-room, or the flippant vivacity of 
professed wits. What gives me most uneasiness, and what I 
fear will always be a thorn in my path, is, too great a thirst 
for applause. When I sit down to write, I perpetually catch 
myself considering, not what will be most useful, but what will 
\^ most likely to gain praise firom an audience. If I should 



OQ MEMOIR O' 

be unpopular, it would, I fear, give me more uneasiness than 
it ought ; and if — though I think there is little reason to fear 
it — I should in any degree be acceptable, what a terrible blaze 
it would make in my bosom ! What a temptation this disposi- 
tion will be to suppress, or lightly touch upon, those doctrines 
which are most important, because they are disagreeable to 
most persons ! I should at once give up in despair, had I 
nothing but my own philosophy to depend on ; but I hope and 
trust I shall be enabled to conquer it. 

'' If you knew the many things which rendered it unlikely 
that I should continue here half so long as I have, you would 
join with me in thinking an overruling Providence very visible 
in the whole aifair. With respect to continuing longer, I do 
not mean to form a single plan on the subject. If I know any 
thing of my own heart, I can appeal to God as a witness of my 
earnest desire to be in the situation where he sees best to 
place me, without any regard to its being agreeable or disa- 
greeable ; and he can, and, I doubt not, will, order matters so 
as to shorten or prolong my stay here as he pleases." 

" January 15, 1806. 

" If you, my dear Mother, can pick out the meaning in the 
last page, I shall be glad ; for in truth it is but poorly express- 
ed. You must have observed, that my letters are very ob- 
scure; that the transitions from one subject to another are 
rapid and capricious. The reason of this confusion is, — when 
I sit down to write, forty ideas jump at once, all equally eager 
to get out, and jostle and incommode each other at such a rate, 
that not the most proper, but the strongest, escapes first. My 
mind would fain pour itself all out, at once, on the paper; but, 
the pen being rather too small a passage, ******** *^ 
*********** gQ nrnch by way of apology, by 
which, as is usually the case with apologies, I have only made 
bad worse." 

"^27n7 2, 1806. 
'•'My dear Mother, 

" I have just received your last paquet, and am so rejoiced, 
I can hardly sit still enough to write. They were not half 
long enough to satiate me, and I am more hungry than before. 
Yesterday, in order to appease my hunger, I read over all the 
letters I have received this year past, to my great satisfaction. 
You must not expect method nor legible writing. These 
qualifications are necessary in a billet of cojnpliments, but in a 
letter to friends, I despise them. However, if my good friends 
are fond of them, and prefer them to the rapid effusions of af- 
fectiov that will hardly wait the pen's motion, I will soon write 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



21 



a letter, that shall be as cold and as splendid as an ice-palace. 
You may usually observe my hand-writing is much better at 
the beginning than at the end of my letters ; and this happens 
because I gather warmth as I write. A letter to a friend, 
written with exact care, is like — " Madam, I hope I have the 
pleasure of seeing you in very good health," — addressed to a 
mother, on meeting her after a year's absence. 

'* I did not recollect, that I made use of a billet to enclose 
my letters. However, 1 suppose it did just as well. Pray 
give my love to Phillips, (with the rest of the dear clan,) and 
tell him, that, instead of being a sign of poverty, it is the sur- 
est way to be rich, to save even the cover of a letter ; besides, 
I have Papa's authority for using billets in that way." 

These extracts show how he appreciated the relations of son 
and brother, and how just he was to all the claims which these 
relations involve. His filial affection is among the loveliest 
traits in his character, and it never suffered any abatement, so 
long as he had a parent to love. He continued to appropriate, 
unasked, and of choice, the excess of his earnings above his 
expenditures, to the use of his parents, till the whole amount 
expended for his education nad been reimbursed. By word 
and deed, in the thousand ways which affection suggests, he 
sought their comfort and happiness. 

It was not till the third year of his residence in Portland, 
that he made his first appearance before a popular assembly. 
On the 4th of July, 1806, at the request of the municipal au- 
thorities of the town, he pronounced the anniversary oration, — 
a performance which secured him unbounded applause, and 
which he was solicited, with great earnestness, to allow to be 
published ; but no persuasion could induce him to give a copy. 
This production is eminently rich in imagery, and generally 
in sound political views. He shared with many wise and good 
men, serious apprehensions for the result of the experiment 
making in our own country, whether a free government can 
be perpetuated. Those who recollect the circumstances of 
our country at the time, well know that there were many 
reasons for doubt ; and that, in the view of all, an important 
crisis was approaching, which will account for, if not justify, 
the coloring in the following picture : — 

*' The vessel of our republic, driven by the gales of faction, 
and hurried still faster by the secret current of luxury and 
vice, is following the same course, and fast approaching the 
same rocks, which have proved fatal to so many before us. — ' 



22 MEMOIR OF 

Already may we hear the roaring of the surge ; already do we 
begin to circle round the vortex which is soon to ingulf us. 
Yet we see no danger. In vain does experience offer us the 
wisdom of past ages for our direction : in vain does the genius 
of history spread her chart, and point out the ruin towards 
which we are advancing : in vain do the ghosts of departed 
governments, lingering round the rocks on which they perish- 
ed, warn us of our approaching fate, and eagerly strive to ter- 
rify us from our course. It seems to be an immutable law of 
our nature, that nations, as well as individuals, shall learn wis- 
dom by no experience biit their own. That blind, that ac- 
cursed infatuation, which ever appears to govern mankind 
when their most important interests are concerned, leads us, 
in defiance of reason, experience, and common sense, to flatter 
ourselves, that the same causes which have proved fatal to all 
other governments, will lose their pernicious tendency when 
exerted on our own.'' 

Alluding to the reigning policy of our government in rela- 
tion to commerce, and to a navy as a means of national defence, 
and classing among its effects the blockade of our ports, the 
detention of our vessels, and the plundering of our property by 
every petty freebooter, he thus states the argument by which it 
had been defended : — 

*' As some consolation under these accumulated evils, we 
have lately been told, that the United States are a land ani- 
mal — an elephant, who is resistless on land, but has nothing 
to do with the dominion or navigation of the sea. Grant 
that they are so ; yet if this elephant can neither cool his 
burning heat, nor quench his thirst, without losing his 
proboscis by the jaws of the shark or the tusks of the alli- 
gator, what does it avail him, that he is allowed to graze 
his native plains in safety ?" 

Some of his paragraphs are as significant as they are glow- 
ing :— 

' " That virtue, both in those who command and those 
who obey, is absolutely essential to the existence of repub- 
lics, is a maxim, and a most important one, in political 
science. Whether we retain a sufficient share of this vir- 
tue to promise ourselves a long duration, you, my friends, 
must decide. But, should the period ever arrive, when lux- 
ury and i'ltemperance shall corrupt our towns, while igno- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 23 

ranee and vice pervade the country ; when the press shall 
become the common sewer of falsehood and slander ; when 
talents and integrity shall be no recommendation, and open 
dereliction of all principle no obstacle to preferment ; when 
we shall intrust our liberties to men with whom we should 
not dare to trust our property; when the chief seats of 
honor and responsibility in our government shall be filled 
by characters of whom the most malicious ingenuity can 
invent nothing worse than the truth ; when we shall see 
the members of our national councils, in defiance of the 
laws of God and their country, throwing away their lives 
in defence of reputations, which, if they ever existed, had 
long been lost ; when the slanderers of Washington and the 
blasphemers of our God shall be thought useful laborers in 
our political vineyard ; when, in fine, we shall see our leg- 
islators sacrificing their senses, their reason, their oaths, and 
their consciences at the altar of party ; — then we may say, 
that virtue has departed, and that the end of our liberty 
draweth nigh." 

Afl;er drawing a most striking and vivid contrast between 
the circumstances and prospects of the country as they existed 
at the time, and as they had been at a former period, he pro- 
ceeds : — 

" The imperfect sketch of our situation, which has just been 
given, is not drawn for the sake of indulging in idle com- 
plaints or querulous declamation ; and still less is it intended 
to lead to a conclusion, that our case is desperate. But it is 
intended, if there be yet remaining one spark of that spirit, one 
drop of that blood, which animated and warmed the breasts of 
our fathers, to rouse it to vigorous and energetic exertions. It 
is to the want of such exertions, that we must ascribe the 
rapid and alarming spread of disorganizing and demoralizing 
principles among us ; and we can, in fact, blame none but 
ourselves for the evils we suffer. Had we paid half that atten- 
tion to the interests of our country and the preservation of lib- 
erty, that we have to the calls of indulgence, of pleasure, of 
avarice, never should we have seen the sun of American glory 
thus shorn of his beams, and apparently about to set forever. 
It is^ true, indeed, that, when aroused by some particularly inter- 
esting • object, we have started from our slumbers, and seen 
the fiendlike form of Faction sink beneath our efforts. But no 
sooner was the object of our exertions accomplished, than we 
returned to our couches, and, while we were exulting in our 



24 MEMOIR OF 

Strength, and rejoicing in our victory, suffered our indefati- 
gable foe to regain all she had lost. It is not sudden and 
transient efforts, however vigorous and well-directed, that can 
preserve any state from destruction. There is, in all popular 
governments, a national tendency to degenerate, as there is in 
matter to fall ; and nothing can counteract this tendency, and 
the continual endeavor of unprincipled men to increase it, but 
the most energetic and persevering exertions. On no easier 
terms can the blessings of freedom be enjoyed ; and if we 
think this price too great, it evinces that we are neither wor- 
thy nor capable of enjoying them. 

"This inexcusable neglect, so fatal to our liberties, and so 
disgraceful to ourselves, is occasioned, in some measure, by 
the indulgence of hopes not less dangerous than they are 
groundless and delusive. We are told, that the torrent of 
licentiousness, which is rushing in upon us, is not a just cause 
for alarm ; that it will cease of itself, when it has run its ca- 
reer ; and that the people, having learned wisdom by experi- 
ence, will know how to prize the blessings of order, and 
return with alacrity to their former correct habits. True, it 
will cease when it has run its career ; and so will the confla- 
gration that destroys" your dwelling ; but will you, therefore, 
use no endeavors to extinguish it ? Beware of indulging any 
hopes, but those which are founded on exertions. The tor- 
rent which approaches us is the overwhelming deluge of Ve- 
suvius or JEtna, which calcines or consumes what it cannot 
remove, leaves nothing behind it but a black sterility, and 
renders ages insufficient to repair the havoc of a day. 



'* Away, then, with those idle hopes and frivolous excuses, 
which defraud us of the only moments in which our safety can 
be secured. Away with that indolence, so unworthy, so in- 
consistent with the character of freemen. This is the very 
crisis of our fate. We stand on the extremest verge of safety ; 
a single step may plunge us headlong, never to rise. The 
immense wheel of revolution may be put in motion by a fly, 
though it would require more than mortal power to arrest its 
p ')g~css. Those who attempt to check its career must fall 
the first victims to its ponderous weight ; while those only 
who urge it forward, and rejoice in the horrid devastation it 
occasions, can be safe. But let us not, therefore, give way to 
despair. The same maxim, that bids us never presume, 
teaches us likewise never to despair. By neglecting the first 
of these precepts, we have begun our ruin ; let us not com- 



RnWARD PAYSON. 25 

plete it by neglecting the last. Let us endeavor to open those 
eyes whose sight is not totally extinguished by the virulence of 
the disease. The bright rays of truth and reason, condensed 
and reflected from a polished mind, may penetrate even the 
shades and mists of ******* prejudice. Remember, that, 
when good is to be promoted, or evil opposed, it is the duty of 
every individual to conduct as if the whole success of the en- 
terprise depended on himself Remember, too, that there is 
no individual so insignificant, that he cannot afford some as- 
sistance in the struggle for liberty and order. 

* But let us be careful, my friends, to engage in this strug- 
gle, in a manner, and with arms, worthy of the cause we pro- 
fess to support. Why should we disgrace that and ourselves, 
by contending for the most important interests of our country 
in language fit only for a tenant of Bilingsgate, disputing 
about the property of a shrimp or an oyster ? Why should we 
quit the high ground of reason and argument, on which we 
stand, to wrestle with our antagonists in the kennel of scur- 
rility and abuse ? ***** Why should we exchange weapons, 
with which we are certain of victory, for those which our ad- 
versaries can wield with equal, and perhaps superior dexterity 1 



*' It ought never to be forgotten, that, except in some few 
instances, where they are inseparable even in idea, it is not 
men, but principles, we are to attack. Experience has at 
length, in some measure, taught us, what we ought long since 
to have learned from reason, that, though ridicule can irritate, 
it cannot convince. On the contrary, it rouses to opposition 
some of the strongest passions in the human breast ; and he 
must be something different from man, who can be scourged 
out of any opinion by the lash of personal satire. ****** 

*' But all our exertions, however animated by zeal, nerved 
by energy, and guided by prudence, will be insufficient to 
restore us to the heicrht from v/hich we have fallen, unless we 
restore those moral and religious principles, which were for- 
merly our glory, our ornament, and defence. Would you 
know, my friends, the real sorjrce of the calamities we suf- 
fer, and the dangers we fear ? It is here ; we have forsak- 
en the God of our fathers, and therefore all this evil has 
come upon us. We once gloried in styling ourselves his 
American Israel ; and a similarity of character and situation 
gives us a claim to the title. Like them, we have often 
been delivered by his uplifted hand and his outstretched 
arm like them we ha ^c experienced his munificence in 
3 



26 MEMOIR OF 

temporal and spiritual blessings; and, like them, we have 
repaid his goodness with ingratitude and rebellion. Like them, 
we have bowed down to the idols of luxury, of ambition, of 
j^easure and avarice ; and as we have copied their idolatry, so, 
unless Heaven, in undeserved mercy, prevent, we shall soon re- 
semble them in their destruction. It is an immutable truth^ 
that sin is the ruin of any people ; and wo to that nation who 
will not believe it without making the experiment. This ex- 
periment, fatal as it must prove, we seem resolved to make. — 
Among us God's laws are disobeyed, his institutions are de- 
spised, his Sabbaths are profaned, and his name is blasphemed. 
And shall he not visit for these things ? will he not be avenged 
on such a nation as this? ***** 

" Will any reply, with a sneer, that these observations have 
been often repeated, and that they have now become trite and 
old ? They are so ; * * * * and though this were the ten thou- 
sandth repetition, still, if we have not yet reduced them to 
practice, it is necessary to hear them again and again. Re- 
member, that it is in vain to boast of our patriotism, and make 
high pretensions to love for our country, while, by our private 
vices, we are adding to the national debt of iniquity under 
which she groans, and which must soon plunge her in the 
gulf of irretrievable ruin. Hear, and remember — that if, in 
defiance of reason, gratitude, and religion, we still madly per- 
sist to follow that path, in which we have already made such 
rapid advances, and to imitate the vices of those nations who 
have gone before us, as certain as there is a God in heaven, 
so certainly we shall share their fate. 

"If, then, you would display true love for your country, and 
lengthen out the span of her existence, endeavor by precept, 
but especially by example, to inculcate the principles of order, 
morality, and religion. Exert your influence to check the 
progress of luxury, that first, second, and third cause of the 
ruin of republics ; that vampyre, which soothes us into a fatal 
slumber, while it sucks the life-blood from our veins. Above 
all, be attentive to the morals of the rising generation, and do 
not, by neglect and indulgence, nourish the native seeds of 
vice and faction in their hearts. Let not these counsels be 
despised, because they are the words of youth and inexperi- 
ence. When your habitation is in flames, a child may give 
the alarm, as well as a philosopher." 

The extracts from this oration have been the more copious, 
as it is the only considerable production of Dr. Payson, that 
survives hihi, whose object was not professedly religious ; and 



EDWARD PAYSON. 27 

because this performance is thought to have had influence in 
fixing his ultimate destination. This was the commencement 
of his career, as a public speaker, and probably the only oc- 
casion on which he addressed a popular assembly, till he stood 
forth as the ambassador of Christ. In selecting the passages 
to be preserved, regard was had not so much to originality 
nor to brilliancy of imagery, as to the permanent value of the 
sentiments, and their suitableness to the design of this work. 



29 MEMOIU OF 



CHAPTER III. 

His religious Mstojy during the period embraced in the pre^ 

ceding chapter, 

"When did Dr. Payson become religious?^'-— and "What 
was the character of his religious experience at the time he 
embraced the hope of the gospel?" — are questions which have 
been frequently proposed, but never satisfactorily answered. 
With respect to them he invariably maintained a reserve, 
which, to good people, who v/ere over-curious to know, a]> 
peared wholly unaccountable. If he ever fully communicated 
those inward feelings and exercises, which issued in a con- 
firmed hope, it must have been to his parents and sister, who 
are no longer inhabitants of earth. No solicitations by others 
could drav/ from him a particular history of that process, 
through which he was carried, before he could appropriate the 
comforting language, " Being justified by faith, we have peace 
with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." The compiler of 
these pages studied his religious history in an inverted order, 
and, being first made acquainted with that part of his experi- 
ence which belonged to a subsequent period of his life, was 
ready to account for his reserve on the supposition, that the 
exercises attending his conversion were of an extraordinary 
kind ; and, if adopted as a standard of religious experience — 
which, considering the character and station of their subject, 
and that sort of oracular authority which Vvas connected in 
many minds with whatever he sanctioned, they could hardly fail 
to be, to some extent— would occasion much discomfort to real 
believers, and be far from recommending religion to such as 
have never yielded themselves to its influence. 

A different supposition, however, is more credible, and has 
something like evidence to support it. It has already been 
seen, that his mother, who doubtless watched, and " pondered 
in her heart," every indication of the state of his feelings on 
this subject, was not without a partial belief, that he was con- 
verted in childhood. His room-mate, since a minister of the 
gospel, thinks that * he experienced religion before entering col- 
lege, but, owing to his peculiar situation while there, became a 
backslider, Another classmate, one of the literary associates 



EDWARD PAYSON. 29 

mentioned in the preceding chapter, whose speculative views 
of religion are supposed to differ from those of his departed 
friend, but who has the power to discern, and a heart to appreci- 
ate worth, wherever found, has thus expressed himself in rela- 
tion to these questions : — "His theological opinions, during 
his early consideration of subjects of that nature, were essen- 
tially Calvinistic ; but his views of the operative power of re- 
ligious faith upon the heart and life, were materially altered, 
previous to entering upon the great work which occupied the 
remainder of his days. The important change took place 
gradually, not from any sudden or overpowering impressions." 
With such an origin correspond the earlier fruits and opera- 
tions of his religion, so far as they can be gathered from writ- 
ings which he has left behind him. His religion was of a 
comparatively gentle, unobtrusive, amiable, yet progressive, 
character, less marked by the extremes of agonizing and tri- 
umphant feelings, than it was at a subsequent period — a differ- 
ence, for which the reader will, in the sequel, be at no loss to 
account. From the early part of 1804, religion seems to have 
been his all-engrossing concern ; his attention was then ar- 
rested, and fixed so as never afterwards to be diverted, for any 
length of time, from the subject. Whether he were in an un- 
converted, or backslidden state, he was then roused, as from 
sleep, to take a solemn view of his relations as an accountable 
and immortal being. The occasion of this new or revived 
concern for his soul, was the death of a beloved brother. A 
letter to his parents, in answer to one which announced the 
sorrowful tidings, is the earliest production of his pen, which 
has escaped oblivion, and, on this account alone, will be read 
with interest. But it has a higher value, as it enables us to 
date the commencement of his attention to his spiritual in- 
terests as far back as May 20, 1804,* the time when his let- 
ter was dated, and it more than intimates that the subject with 
him was not new. 

" My dear mother's fears respecting my attention to relig- 

*This date is given, as it appears in Dr. Payson's hand- writing-. A corre- 
spondent, however, places it a year later. If the date of the brother's death 
has been preserved on the Family Record, which is altogether probable, to 
tliat date this change in his feelings should be referred. It is possible some- 
thing may have fad«i from the last of the figures denoting the year. 

It has been stated, on credible authority, that Dr. Payson was so much af- 
fected by this bereavement, that he confined himself to His chamber for three 
days j and that, previously to this period, he had purposed to devote himself to 
the profession of the law. If so, the affliction was no less a mercy to the 
o'lurch thaa tt himself. 

" lod is his own Interpreter." 

3* 



30 MEMOIR OF 

ious concerns were, alas ! but too well founded. Infatuated 
by the pleasures and amusements which this place affords, and 
which took the more powerful hold on my senses from being 
adorned with a refinement to which I had before been a stran- 
ger, I gradually grew cold and indifferent to religion ; and, 
though I still made attempts to reform, they were too transient 
to be effectual. 

** From this careless frame, nothing but a shock like that I 
have received, could liave roused me ; and though my deceit- 
ful heart will, I fear, draw me back again into the snare, as 
soon as the first impression is worn off, yet I hope, by the as- 
sistance of divine grace, that this dispensation will prove of 
eternal benefit. This is my most earnest prayer, and I know 
it will be yours. 

" In reflecting on the ends of divine Providence in this 
event, I am greatly distressed. To you, my dear parents, it 
could not be necessary. My sister, as you sometime since in- 
formed me, has turned her attention to religion ; the other 
children are too young to receive benefit from it. It remains, 
then, that I am the Achan, who has drawn down this punish- 
ment, and occasioned this distress to my friends. My care- 
less, obdurate heart rendered it necessary to punish and hum- 
ble it : and O that the punishment had fallen where it was 
due ! But I can pursue the subject no further."— 

Here is the subdued tone of the penitent, ^ come to himself, 
and returning to his Father.' Of his progress in piety for the 
next six months, nothing is known except what may be infer- 
red from a letter dated Dec. 12th of the same year. An 
extract will show that he was not inattentive to what passed 
in his own heart, nor v*ithout experience in the Christian 
conflict. 

" I have nothing but complaints of myself to make, nothing 
but the same old story of erring and repenting, but never re- 
forming, I fear I am in a sad way. I attend public worship 
and think of every subject but the proper one ; or if, by strong 
exertions, I fix my attention, for a few minutes, I feel an irre- 
sistible propensity to criticise the preacher, instead of attend- 
ing to the instructions ; and, notwithstanding a full conviction 
that this conduct is wrong, I persist in it still. Hence it hap- 
pens, that the Sabbath, which is so admirably calculated to 
keep alive a sense of religion, becomes a stumbling-block. 
Thi? thought of my sinful neglect and inattention so shames 



EDWARD PAYSON. , gj 

and distresses me, that I am unable to approach the throne of 
grace, through shame. As this, I know, is the fruit of a self- 
righteous spirit, I strive against it ; and, after two or three 
days, perhaps, am enabled to trust in Christ for the pardon of 
that and other sins. But, another Sabbath, the same round is 
repeated. Thus I go on, sinning and humbling myself after 
long seeking for a proper sense of my sin, then confessing it 
with contrition and remorse ; and, the next moment, even 
while the joy of obtained pardon and gratitude for divine favor 
is thrilling in my heart, plunging, on the most trivial tempta- 
tion, into the same error, whose bitter consequences I had so 
lately felt. Shame and remorse for the ungrateful returns I 
have made for the blessings bestowed, prevent secret prayer, 
frequently for two or three days together, until I can no longer 
support it ; and though I have so often experienced forgiving 
love, I am too proud to ask for it." 

A few weeks afterwards, he writes thus : — " I feel convinced 
by experience, that, if I relax my exertions for ever so short a 
time, it will require additional exertions to repair it, and per- 
haps occasion a week's gloom and despondency ; yet the least 
temptation leads me to do what I feel conscious, at the time, 
I shall severely smart for. In the impracticable attempt to 
reconcile God and the world, I spend my time very unhappily, 
neither enjoying the comforts of this world, nor of religion. 
But I have at last determined to renounce the false pleasures 
for which I pay so dear, and this I should have done long ago, 
but for the advice and example of some whose judgment I re- 
spected." 

*' I have lately been severely tried with doubts and difficul- 
ties respecting many parts of Scripture. Reading the other 
day, I met with this passage, " for his great name's sake." 
It was immediately suggested to my mind, that, as the Deity 
bestowed all his favor on us " for his great name's sake," we 
were under no obligations to feel grateful for them. And 
though my heart assented to the propriety of gratitude, my 
head would not. In hearing my scholars recite the Greek 
Testament, I am disturbed by numberless seeming inconsis- 
tencies and doubts, which, though they do not shake my be- 
lief, render me for a time extremely miserable. I find no re- 
lief in these trials from the treatises which have been written 
in proof of the truth of revelation. It is from a different 
source that assistance is received. 



33 MEMOIR OF 

" My dearest MotIieR; April 20,. 1805. 

" I have just been perusing something excessively interesting 
to my feelings. It is a short extract from your journal in my 
sister's letter. Surely it is my own fault, that I do not resem- 
ble Samuel in more instances than one. What a disgrace to 
me, that, with such rare and inestimable advantages, I have 
made no greater progress ! However, thanks to the fervent, 
effectual prayers of my righteous parents, and the tender mer- 
cies of my God upon me, I have reason to hope, that the pious 
wishes, breathed over my infant head, are in some measure 
fulfilled ; nor would I exchange the benefits which I have 
derived from, my parents for the inheritance of any monarch* 
in the universe. 

" I feel inclined to hope that I am progressing, though by 
slow and imperceptible degrees, in the knowledge of divine 
things. On comparing my former and present views, I find 
that the latter are much less confused and perplexed ; that I 
have clearer conceptions of my utter inability to take a single 
step in religion without divine assistance, of the consequent 
necessity of a Saviour, and of the way of salvation by him. 
Yet I cannot find that my conduct, my heart or disposition is 
made better. On the contrary, I fear they are worse than 
ever." 

" June 12, 1805. 
" I find I have been trying to establish a righteous- 
ness of my own, though till lately I thought myself free from 
any such design. Hence arose all that unwillingness to per- 
form the public and private exercises of devotion, which I felt 
after any neglect of duty. I wanted, forsooth, to be encour- 
aged to hope for an answer of peace, by some merits of my 
own, and so felt unwilling to approach the throne of grace, 
when I had been guilty of any thing which lessened my stock 
of goodness. In short, it was the same kind of reluctance 
which I should feel to approach a fellow being whom I had 
injured. And this, which I now see arose from pride, I fond- 
ly thought was the effect of great humility. Finding my- 
self so deceived here, and in numberless other instances, I 
am utterly at a loss what to do. If I attempt to perform any 

* The admirers of Cowper — between whom and the subject of this Memoir 
there are several strong points of resemblance — will be reminded, at once, of 
these beautif i lines : 

" My boast is not that I deduce my biilh 
From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth j 
Uut higher far my proud pretensions rise ; 
The son of parents passed into the skies." 



EDWARD PAYSON. - 33 

duly, 1 am afraid it is only an attempt to build up a fabric of 
my own ; and if I neglect it, the case is still worse. 



'* Since the period of my leaving home for Cambridge, it 
has appeared the most discouraging circumstance attending 
the spread of religion, that many who undertake to preach it 
are so shamefully negligent. Of this, my dear mother, you 
can form no just idea, unless you have heard them. While 
their hearers are wishing and longing for spiritual fooi, they 
are obliged to rest content with cold, dry lectures on morality, 
enforced by any motives rather than evangelical. These min- 
isters content themselves, generally, with pruning off some of 
the most prominent excrescences of vice ; they leave the root 
untouched, and cut off only the leaves. The more I think 
of it, the more difficult does the duty appear ; and I tremble 
at the thought of incurring such a responsibility. I fear, 
however, that part of my reluctance arises from an indolent 
disposition, fi*om an unwillingness to encounter the fatigues, 
the difficulties and dangers attending the performance of a 
clergyman's duty. I am afraid of conferring too much with 
flesh and blood.'' 

The next notices which he has lefl of himself are found in 
a manuscript volume, written in characters which it has been 
a long and difficult work to decipher. The following are the 
first two paragraphs : — 

^^ July 25 J 1805. This day, being my twenty-second birth 
day, I have determined to commence a diary, as a check on 
the misemploy ment of time." 

Same date. " Having resolved this day to dedicate myself 
to my Creator, in a serious and solemn manner, by a written 
covenant, I took a review of my past life, and of the numerous 
mercies by which it has been distinguished. Then, with sin- 
cerity, as I humbly hope, I took the Lord to be my God, and 
engaged to love, serve, and obey him. Relying on the assist- 
ance of his Holy Spirit, I engaged to take the holy Scriptures 
as the rule of my conduct, the Lord Jesus Christ to be my 
Saviour, and the Spirit of all grace and consolation as my 
Guide and Sanctifier. The vows of God are upon me." 

Subsequent entries in his diary show an ever-active de- 
sire to ' pay the vows which his lips had uttered.' He made 



34 MEMOIR OF 

Strenuous efforts to redeem the morning hours from sleep, that 
he might enjoy an uninterrupted season for reading the Scrip- 
tures, and other devotional exercises ; and, when he failed of 
this, he suffered much in consequence, and lamented it with 
deep feeling. His diligence in business, as well as fervor of 
spirit, are abundantly apparent from the account which he 
has given of the employment of every hour, from four in the 
morning to ten at night. — In a letter to his parents, written 
on this anniversary, he speaks of having already * paid con- 
sideraole attention to divinity,' and of expecting, * in another 
year, to commence preaching, if he should feel competent to 
such an undertaking.' 

« Portland, July 25, 1805. 
''My dear Parents, 

** This day, which completes my twenty-second year, re- 
news the remembrance of the numerous claims your contin- 
ued care and kindness have on my gratitude and affection. 
To you, next to my heavenly Father, I owe that I exist, that 
I am in a situation to support myself, and, what is a still 
greater obligation, to your admonitions and instructions I am 
indebted for all the moral and religious impressions which are 
imprinted in my mind, and which, I hope, under God, will 
give me reason to love and bless you through eternity. How 
can I feel sufficient gratitude to the Giver of all good for 
blessing me with such parents ! and how can I thank you 
sufficiently for all the kindness you have lavished upon me, as 
yet without return ! But it shall be the study of my life to 
show, that I am not utterly devoid of every sentiment of grat- 
itude and duty. Pardon me, my dearest parents, for all the 
pain, the trouble, and anxiety I have given you, and believe 
me while I promise never knowingly to be guilty of any thing 
to increase the uneasiness I have already occasioned you. I 
consider it as one of my greatest blessings, that I am now in 
a situation which prevents my being a charge to you, and 
which, besides, might enable me, in case of misfortune, to 
repay some small part of the kindness I have received. I, 
with all I do or may possess, am your property, for you alone 
put me in a situation to obtain it. And if there be any thing, 
(as I doubt not there is,) which would contribute to your hap- 
piness, in my power to procure for you, I most earnestly en- 
treat you to let me know it ; and if I do not, with the utmost 
pleasure, comply, cast me off as an ungrateful wretch, utterly 
unwor hy of your kindness and affection." 



\ 



EDWARD PAYSON. 35 

Mr. Payson made a public profession of religion September 
1, 1805. He connected himself originally with the church in 
Rindge, under the pastoral care of his father, while on a visit 
to his parents during 6ne of his quarterly vacations. Of his 
exercises in the near prospect of this solemn act, not a memo- 
rial remains. The record of them was probably destroyed by 
himself, as there is a hiatus in his diary from about a month 
previous to this event till the 19th of January following. It 
is not an omission, but an obvious mutilation. The only 
direct allusion to this public dedication of himself to God is 
in a letter to his mother, written a short time afterwards, in 
which he says — "As yet I have no reason to repent of the step 
I took while at home. On the contrary, I esteem it a great 
blessing that no obstacles prevented it." He adds, " I have 
felt wondrous brave and resolute since my return ; but I re- 
joice with trembling. If I know any thing of myself, I shall 
need pretty severe discipline through life ; and I often shrink 
at the thought of the conflicts that await me, but am encour- 
aged by the promise that my strength shall be equal to my 
day." Ne^^er were apprehensions and hopes more signally 
realized. He who " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," 
however, reserved the bitterest trials for a confirmed state of 
religious experience, mercifully indulging his servant with the 
light of his countenance, and a peaceful and happy progress 
in his pilgrimage, in its earliest stages. Oct. 6th, he writes — 
** I know it will add to your happiness, my dear mother, to 
hear that I possess a large quantity of that desirable commo- 
dity. Since my return from Rindge, bating a few disagreea- 
ble days after parting with my friends, I have hardly known 
one unhappy moment. The doubts which formerly obscured 
my mind are dissipated, and I have enjoyed, and do still enjoy, 
mental peace, and, at times, happiness inexpressible. When 
I am thus happy, it renders me so benevolent that I want to 
make every one partake of it, and can hardly forbear preach- 
ing to every man I see. At the same time, the thought of 
what I deserve, compared with what I enjoy, humbles me to 
the dust ; and the lower I get, the more happy do I feel ; and 
then I am so full of gratitude and love, I can hardly support 
it. My only source of unhappiness, at such times, is the moral 
certainty that I shall again offend that God who is so infinite- 
ly, so condescendingly kind. This, indeed, seems impossible 
at the time ; it then seems that worldly objects cannot possi- 
bly again acquire an undue influence over my mind. **** 
To think that I shall again become cold and inanimate, that 
I shall again oiend and grieve the Holy Spirit, and perhaps 



56 ^MF.MOTR OP 

be left openly to dishonor the holy name by which I am called 
—my dear mother, how distressing !" 

'' October 29. 

" These worldly comforts are nothing to the serenity 

and peace of mind with which I am favored, and the happi- 
ness arising from love, gratitude, and confidence. Even con- 
trition and remorse for having slighted so long such infinite 
and condescending mercy, is not without a pleasing kind of 
pain. But I know this state of things is too good to continue 
long ; and I hope I shall be enabled to take up with a much 
smaller number of the comforts of life without murmuring.'* 

In a letter, dated November 11th, he says, '^ The happiness 
I mentioned in my last, and in which you so kindly partici- 
pate, I still enjoy, though diminished, in some degree, by an 
examination I have been making respecting some important 
but perplexing truths." 

Some weeks after this he wrote — " I did not intend to say 
another word about my feelings ; but I must, or else cease 
writing. I am so happy, that I cannot possibly think nor 
write of any thing else. Such a glorious, beautiful, consis- 
tent scheme for the redemption of such miserable wretches ! — 
such infinite love and goodness, joined with such wisdom ! — 
I would, if possible, raise my voice so that the whole universe, 
to its remotest bounds, might liear me, if any language could 
be found worthy of such a subject. How transporting, and 
yet how humiliating, are the displays of divine goodness, which, 
at some favored moments, we feel ! what happiness in hum- 
bling ourselves in the dust, and confessing our sins and un- 
worthiness !" 

A solicitude for the spiritual welfare of others, which is 
among the early fruits of experimental religion, and one of 
the most pleasing evidences of its existence, was, in Mr. Pay- 
son, coeval with his profession of the faith and hope of the 
gospel. Of this his pupils, as was to be expected, were always 
the most interesting objects. — September 20th, he writes — 
** Last Saturday, I gave my scholars six questions in the cat- 
echism, and a hymn to commit to memory on the Sabbath; 
and, on Monday morning, after hearing them recite, I lectur- 
ed them on the subjects about three quarters ot an hour 
They paid strict attention. It is, however, discouraging to 
attempt any thing of this kind, and a most lively faith alone 



EDWARD PAYSON. 37 

can make it otherwise. Is it not astonishing, that those who 
have a just sense of the importance of religion are not more 
earnest in recommending it to others ? One would suppose 
they could hardly refrain from preaching to them in the 
streets. The reason we do not is, we have not a just sense 
of it." 

•^ October 29. 

** I hope your narrative — for which I thank you — will have 
a tendency to stir me up. I feel a strong and abiding impres- 
sion on my mind, that all the good I enjoy my friends were 
stirred up to pray for ; and I hope I and my scholars shall 
reap the advantage of them in this case. When I look at 
them, and reflect how many dangers they are exposed to, what 
bad examples even the parents of many set them, and how 
few hear any thing like religious instruction, I cannot express 
my feelings. Lately I feel a great flow of words when ad- 
dressing them ; however, it is just like speaking to dry bones, 
unless a divine blessing assist. — If I could be the means of 
doing good only to one, what transport ! Thank God, it does 
not depend on the means, but on himself; otherwise I should 
give up in despair." 

^^ January 15, 1806. 

" This morning I w^as highly favored in speaking to my 
scholars. I spoke nearly three quarters of an hour with some 
earnestness, though not so much as I could have wished. 
Except once, I have felt a very considerable share of freedom 
on these occasions. Your mentioning that you were enabled 
to pray for ar blessing on these poor endeavors has been a 
great encouragement to me. They are attentive, and a very 
perceptible difference has taken place in their attention to 
their studies. I hope that, sooner or later, they will become 
attentive to more important pursuits. I am almost afraid to 
write even to you, my dear mother, on these subjects, lest I 
should make some gross blunder, through my ig-norance and 
inexperience. I have often observed, that pei-sons who begin 
to read late in life are apt to think every thing they meet with 
in books as new to others as it is to them, and so make them- 
selves ridiculous by retailing, as novelty, what every one knew 
before. In like manner, I am somewhat apprehensive of ap- 
pearing to you, in mentioning my own feelings, as one who is 
detailing last yearns news ; for your ideas and feelings must 
be so far beyond mine, that it will require some patience to 
read my relations. However, I trust to your goodness, and 
hope yo'i will remember, that many things, which are now 
4 



38 MEMOIR OF 

plain and common, were once dark and unusual to you. I 
am pursuing my studies pretty much at random, having no 
person to advise with." 

This anxiety for the souls of his fellow-creatures, marked 
his intercourse with associates of the same standing with him- 
self One of his valued companions in literary pursuits has 
furnished the following extracts : — 

o 

'' December 2, 1805. 

" There is no worldly blessing that is not heightened by 
religion, but none more so than friendship, whether it be be- 
tween relatives by consanguinity, or those who are joined in 
marriage, or other friends. The idea of parting must imbit- 
ter the pleasure of the man of the world ; but the Christian, 
if he has chosen his friends aright, may hope to enjoy their 
society with more pleasure hereafter than he can now. For 
this reason I never should choose a partner for life, whom I 
could not hope to meet beyond the tomb." 

^' December 9. 

** You ascribe, my friend, too much to age and a cultivated 
mind, when you speak of them as inconsistent with a * stupid 
blindness respecting futurity.' Sad experience shows that 
age the most mature, and minds the most cultivated, are too 
often under the operation of such a blindness. Who, among 
the walks of science, ambition, avarice, or pleasure, is not 
blind to his own mortality ? Who is there that sees, that ev- 
ery hour of his life he infringes that law which says — * cursed 
is every one that continueth not in all things written therein 
to do them V Who sees that his brittle thread of life is all 
on which he hangs over endless misery, and that, if any one 
of the many dangers to which he is exposed should be per- 
mitted to crush him, he would, in a moment, be the subject 
of despair 1 No age, no improvement of the mind, will make 
us see these truths to be such. We may assent to them, but 
our conduct shows we do not believe them. You do not yet, 
my friend, know the difficulty of the task. Consider, first, 
that the divine law extends to the thoughts, and that it makes 
no allowance for human infirmity, and then shut yourself up 
alone, out of the reach of temptation, and try for one hour to 
be innocent, and you will find, by the numberless foolish 
thoughts and vicious propensities arising in your mind, that it 
is no easy thing to be negatively good. When, in addition to 
tills, you consider that sins of omission are equally fatal with 



EDWARD PAYSON. gg 

sins of commission, you must certainly, if you know any thing 
of your own heart, give up in despair. I write this not to 
discourage you, but to urge the immediate commencement of 
a work so difficuh and so important ; but still more to induce 
you to apply to One who can give you strength, and will give 
it, if asked for in a full conviction of your own weakness. 
You know nothing of your own heart ; and, though you may 
not assent to this now, the time, I hope and trust, will come, 
when you will assent to it. You may not now believe that 
naturally, like all others, you are an enemy to God and his 
goodness — but you must assent to it." 

" Take my word for it, there is inexpressibly more enjoy- 
ment in religion, in this life, than the most happy sinner since 
creation ever had to boast of It appears gloomy at a dis- 
tance, but, the nearer it approaches, the more delightful it 
becomes. You know that I am of a social turn, that I enjoy, 
or did enjoy, amusements about as well as others did, and that 
I have no particular reason for flying from them. You know, 
too, that I love you, and would promote your interest to the 
extent of my powers. You may then consider me, if you are 
so disposed, an impartial witness that the ways of Wisdom are 
ways of pleasantness, and all her paths peace. I hope and 
believe that your own feelings may attest the truth of my tes- 
timony. That you may know more and more of it, is the 
sincere prayer of your friend." 

''Jvlyl, 

" I dare pledge any thing most dear to me, that, if you per- 
sist in the diligent use of the means suggested, you shall not 
long use them in vain. But, what is infinitely more to the 
purpose, you have the oath of him who cannot lie, on which 
to ground your hopes. You have nothing to do but to ask for 
faith ; to come, as the leper did to our Saviour while on earth, 
and throw yourself at his feet with ' Lord, if thou wilt, thou 
canst make me clean ;' and rest assured that he will put forth 
his hand and say — * I will ; be thou clean.' He is still as 
able and as willing, ***=** to grant every request 
of this nature as he was on earth. If you really feel yourself 
a sinner, and that you have no power to save yourself, and 
are willing to accept of him as a Saviour, he is ready to receive 
you. ' Do not wait, before you accept his offers, to render 
yourself worthy of his favor by going about to establish a 
righteousness of your own. He will not be a half Saviour. 
He will dr all or nothing. If vou mean to come to him, you 



40 ~ BIEMOIR OF 

must come as a helpless sinner ; not as the Pharisee, with a 
list of virtuous deeds performed, but as the publican, with — 
' Lord, be merciful to me a sinner/ " 

Scarcely two months had elapsed from the time he made a 
public profession of religion, before Mr. Payson felt his mind 
embarrassed in relation to the doctrines of the Bible as un- 
derstood by Calvinists. The first intimation of this perplexity 
is in the following words : — 

*^ I have lately read Cole's Discourses. It is a very com- 
fortable doctrine for the elect, but not so for the sinner. My 
feelings say it is true, but reason wants to put in an oar. It 
is at once encouraoinor and discouratrinor to ministers." 

He afterwards expresses himself more fully on this subject, 
and in a manner which shows that he did not take his religion 
upon trust, but that his subsequent firm adherence to the doc- 
trines of grace was the result of impartial examination. 

" I mentioned in a former letter, that I had been reading 
Cole. Since that I have studied, with considerable attention, 
Edwards on the Will, and his treatise on Original Sin. I 
know not what to do. On one hand, the arguments in favor 
of Calvinism are strong ; and, what is more to the point, I 
feel that most of them must be true ; and yet there are diffi- 
culties, strong difficulties, * *^ * * * * in the wav. 
I care very little about them, as it concerns myself; but to 
think that so many of mankind must be miserable, strikes me 
with disagreeable feelings. I wonder not that the unregener- 
ate are so bitterly opposed to these doctrines and their profess- 
ors, nor that they appear to them as the effects of blindness 
and superstition. Poor Dr. M. is sadly abused on this account, 
and the most consummate scoundrel in existence could not 
merit worse epithets than the clergy of ***** * heap on 
him. I find, however, that I have much clearer views of the 
grand scheme of redemption than 1 had ; and, as it relates to 
myself, it appears a miracle of love and mercy for which I 
never can feel, comparatively speaking, any gratitude. But, 
with respect to others, it does not appear altogether so excel- 
lent. I cannot, however, complain of any doubts of the hnith 
of these points, more than I have of the truth of the Bible ; 
but I cannot reconcile them. I should make poor work at 
preaching in my present state of mind, for 1 could neither ad- 
vance such doctrines not let them alone. Thus I am perplex- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 4X 

ed. I feel that they are true, yet seem to know it is impossi- 
ble they should be so. I never would meddle with them, were 
I not, in some measure, obliged to by the profession I have 
chosen. I almost long for death, that the apparent contradic- 
tions may be reconciled." 

There were practical questions, also, scarcely less embar- 
rassing to his mind, and which it required no small skill in 
Christian casuistry to determine. On account of his situation, 
as well as the inexhaustible fund of entertainment which he 
could carry into company, he was frequently solicited to make 
one of a visiting party, and to mingle in society on various oc- 
casions. The nature of the trials hence arising, as well as 
their issue, will be seen from a few extracts : — 

" After long doubting the propriety, and even the lawfulness, 
of mixing at all in society, where duty does not call, and after 
smarting a number of times for indulging myself in it, — more, 
however, through fear of offending, than for any pleasure I find 
in it, — I am at length brought to renounce it entirely ; and it 
is not a needless scrupulosity. It does appear a duty to shun 
all communication with the world, when there is no well- 
grounded reason to hope to do good. There are, to be sure, 
many very plausible reasons, but I doubt whether they will 
bear the test of scripture." 

To one who urged him to go into society and frequent pub- 
lic amusements, he wrote : — 

" Can a man walk on pitch, and his feet not be defiled ? 
Can a man take coals of fire in his bosom, and his clothes not 
be burned ? If he can, he may then mix freely with the world, 
and not be contaminated. But I am not the one who can do 
it. I cannot think it proper or expedient for a Christian to go 
into any company, unless necessity calls, where he. may, per- 
haps, hear the name he loves and reverences blasphemed, or at 
least profaned, — where that book, which he esteems the word 
of God, will, if mentioned, be alluded to only to waken 
laughter or ' adorn a tale,' — where the laws of good breeding 
are almost the only laws which may not be broken with impu- 
nity, — and where every thing he hears or sees has a strong ten- 
dency to extinguish the glow of devotion, and entirely banish 
seriousness. I speak only for myself Others may experience 
no bad effects ; but, for myself, when I go into company, if it 
is pleasant and agreeable, it has a tendency only to fix my 
4 * 



42 MKMOIR OF 

thoughts on earth, from which it is my duty and my desire to 
turn them, — to give me a distaste for serious duties, especially 
prayer and meditation, and to render me desirous of the ap- 
plause and approbation of those with whom I associate. I 
cannot avoid feeling some desire for its friendship ; and this 
friendship, the apostle assures us, and my own experience feel- 
ingly convinces me, is enmity with God.'^ 

— " I have at length obtained satisfaction respecting my 
doubts about society ; not, however, till I was brought to give 
it up. After I had done so, it appeared so plain and proper, 
that I wondered how a doubt could ever have arisen on this 
subject. Now, I shall hardly see a person in a week, except 
our own family ; and I have no doubt of being much happier 
for it. Two or three plain rules I find of wonderful service 
in deciding all difficult cases. One is, to do nothing of which 
I doubt in any degree the lawfulness ; the second, to consider 
every thing as unlavjful which indisposes me for prayer, and 
interrupts communion icith God ; and the third is, never to go 
into any company, business, or situation, in which I cannot 
conscientiously ash and expect the divine presence. By the 
help of these three rules, I settle all my doubts in a trice, and 
find that many things I have hitherto indulged in, are, if not 
utterly unlawful, at least inexpedient, and I can renounce 
them without many sighs." 

Referring to the dangers inseparable from worldly society, 
he incidentally mentions one defience against their influence, 
which was only imaginary : — '' I consider it a blessing, or en- 
deavor to do so, that I do not possess those talents for shining 
in company, which are so apt to lead their possessors into too 
great a fondness for gay and brilliant society. Yet, I confess, 
though I am sensible they would prove a snare to me, I am 
sometimes tempted to repine at the want of them ; and the 
grant of all my wishes would soon render me the most miser- 
able of beings." The circumstances in which this was written 
preclude all suspicion of its being the language of affectation. 

His determination to exclude himself from company was 
Tery conscientiously formed ; and, so far was he from making 
his own practice a law for others in this matter, he expressly 
assigns his ''weakness and inexperience" as the reason why 
he " could not indulge in society without detriment." Be- 
sides, situated as he was, he saw '' no medium between the 
life of a hermit and that of a votary of pleasure." If such 
were the alternat've, his decision is to be approved. It re- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 43 

suited from a right application of his " three plain rules," which 
are certainly scriptural, and worthy of universal adoption. This 
course was not the fruit of misanthropic feelings ; lor no man 
was more susceptible of the delights of friendship, or more 
highly appreciated its benefits ; but how *^ can two walk to- 
gether, except they be agreed V His heart now sighed for 
friendships founded on a religious basis. He speaks of " a 
friend, with whom he could converse on religious subjects, as 
having long been a desideratum ;" and when he thought he 
had found such a one among his former beloved associates, he 
expresses the most ardent gratitude to the Giver of every good 
gift. '* I feel. a satisfaction," he writes, "on this discovery, 
similar to what I should feel at meetincr a townsman in a des- 
ert island. You, who live in the midst of Christian friends, 
can hardly conceive of it. Associates are pleasant in any pur- 
suit, but especially so in this. Two are better than one. We 
shall together be better able to stand our ground against the 
assaults of ridicule and reproach ; and may animate and en- 
courage each other in our course." 

Having, in a letter to his mother, expressed himself as ready 
to give almost any thing he possessed for an *' experienced 
friend," he anticipates her reply — " You will say, perhaps, 
the Bible is a friend, which, if duly consulted, would super- 
sede the necessity of any other adviser. It may be so ; but 
we are apt to be bad commentators, where we are concerned 
ourselves. A friend can judge of our concerns, and give us 
better counsel, than, perhaps, he would give himself We are 
but poor casuists in our own affairs." 

Some miscellaneous extracts will now be given. 

'' December 8, 1805. 

" Though I have experienced many and great comforts, yet 
I am at times almost discouraged. My heart seems to be a 
soil so bad, that all labor is thrown away upon it ; for, instead 
of growing better, it grows worse. What a wearisome task, 
or rather conflict, it is, to be always fighting with an enemy, 
whom no defeats can weaken or tire. I am afraid, that many 
of my desires to be delivered from his power proceed rather 
from a sinful impatience, than a better source. But it is most 
distressing, when favored with manifestations of a Saviour's 
love, to .think we shall again sin against and grieve him ; es- 
pecially, in the sacrament of the supper, the idea that I shall 
certainly go away and offend him, who is there set forth cru- 
cified before me, imbitters all my happiness." 



44 MEMOIR OF 

" December 25. 
"My dear SisteR; 

*' I am not very prone to indulge the idea, that my happi- 
ness can depend on change of place ; but when such fancies 
do gain admittance, home is always the scene of my imagina- 
ry bliss. It is, however, a remedy to consider, that, however 
we may be separated from our friends in this world, yet, if we 
choose them aright, we may indulge the hope of spending an 
eternity together in the next. 

'' I have of late taken some pleasure in recollecting the pil- 
grimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a striking proprie- 
ty in many parts of them, which I did not then rightly under- 
stand. For some time past I have been with Tender Con- 
science in the caves of Good Resolution and Contemplation, 
and, like him, fell into the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is 
astonishing, and what nothing but sad experience could make 
us believe, that Satan and a corrupt heart should have the art 
of extracting the m^ost dangerous poison from those things 
which apparently would, and certainly ought to, have the most 
beneficial effects. If I do not, after all, fall into the hands of 
old Carnal Security, I shall have reason to be thankful. 
There is such a fascination in the magic circle of worldly 
pleasures and pursuits, as can hardly be conceived without 
experience ; and I am astonished and vexed, to find its influ- 
ence continually thwarting and hindering me. And so many 
plausible excuses are perpetually suggesting themselves, that 
compliance can hardly be avoided.'' 

'^ Januai^ 25. 
''My dear Mother. 

** In one of the classics, which form part of my daily occu- 
pation, there is an account of a tyrant, who used to torture his 
subjects, by binding them to dead bodies, and leaving them to 
perish by an unnatural and painful death. I have often 
thought the situation of a Christian is, in some respects, like that 
of these poor wretches. Bound, to a loathsome body of sin, 
from which death alone can free him, and obliged daily to ex- 
perience effects from it not much less painful and displeasing 
to him, than the stench of a putrefying carcass was to those 
who were united to it, he must suffer almost continual torment. 
I have lately felt doubtful how far a due resignation to the di- 
vine will obliges us to submit with patience to this most pain 
ful of all trials, and, since we know that perfection is not 
granted to any in this world, how far we ought to extend our 
prayers and wishes. I know there is little danger of being too 
much engaged in seeking deliverance from sin ; but is there 



EDWARD PAYSON. 45 

no danger of that fretful impationce, which we are. apt to feel 
on other occasions, gaining admittance under the appearance 
of an earnest desire for hohness ? And is not indolence, and 
a wish to be freed from the necessity of continual watchfulness 
and conflict, apt to insinuate itself into our desires and peti- 
tions for divine assistance ? Sin is a sly traitor ; and it is but 
lately I discovered it in my bosom ; and now I am so much 
afraid of it, that I hardly dare ask assistance at all. 

" For this month past, I have enjoyed very little of that hap- 
piness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed be God ! I am 
not left utterly dead and stupid, and am enabled to persevere 
in the use of means, though they seldom seem so productive 
of peace as they once did. I hope I have clearer ideas of my 
strong, amazingly strong, propensity to every thing that is evil, 
and of the infinite and glorious sufficiency of my Saviour, than 
I had while my joys were greater. Then I was ready to flat- 
ter myself that sin was destroyed ; but now I find, by sad ex- 
perience, it is not only alive, but extremely active ; and had I 
not an almighty Helper, I should instantly give up in despair/' 

'' Portland, Feb. 9, 1806, 

•• MY DEAK I\rOTHEK, 



^' For many reasons, it is impossible that my letters should 
be so acceptable at home as those I receive from home are to 
me. You have friends there, to divide your attention, to par- 
ticipate in your care, and to share and increase your pleasures. 
But I am alone. All my affections must centre at home, and, 
consequently, I must feel a greater desire to hear from home, 
and to receive assurances that I am not forgotten, than my 
friends can possibly have, to hear from me. 

*' I find nobody, except at times, to whom I can communi- 
cate my joys, hopes, desires, and fears ; nobody who can par- 
ticipate my pleasures or sympathize in my griefs. It is, per- 
haps, best for me that it should be so ; but it is very unpleas- 
ant. Most of my acquaintance consider me, as near as I can 
guess, but a kind of hypocrite, who must, as a student in di- 
vinity, preserve a decent exterior, in order to be respected. 
However, it is some consolation, that they think the same of 
every one else. Their opinion is of very trifling consequence 
One thing only I wish not to be thought, and that is, what is 
commonly called a rational Christian, an epithet which is very 
frequently bestowed on young candidates, and which is almost 
synonymous with no Christian. Liberal divines are pretty 
much of the same character," 



4Bg MEMOIR OF 

'' Portland, April 1, 1806. 
*' My dear Mother, 

'* I am now entirely alone, and, except a visit once a fortnight 
from Mr. R., I see no face within my chamber from one week 
to another. It is sometimes unpleasant, but, I believe, very 
profitable, to be debarred from society. I am so prone to trust 
to broken cisterns, that nothing, but their being out of my 
reach, can restrain me. When I come home from school, 
weary and dull, if I had any earthly friends at hand, I should 
certainly apply to them for relief; but, not having any, I am 
constrained to go where I am much more sure of finding it. I 
begin to find, that the smiles with which my early infancy was 
supported, are changing for the less agreeable, but certainly 
not less needful, discipline of education; and O what severe 
discipline, and how much of it, shall I require 1 I see already, 
that hard fare and hard labor will be necessary to preserve me 
from * waxing fat and kicking ;' and if it has this effect, I shall 
welcome it with pleasure. It seems to me one of the worst of 
the hellish offspring of fallen nature, that it should have such a 
tendency to pride, and above all, spiritual pride. How many ar- 
tifices does it contrive to hide itself! If, at any time, I am favor- 
ed with oleartjr diooovcries of my natxiral and acquired depravity 
and hatefulness in the sight of God, and am enabled to mourn 
over it, in comes Spiritual Pride, with — '' Ay, this is something 
like! this is holy mourning for sin; this is true humility.'^ 
If I happen to detect and spurn at these thoughts, immediate- 
ly he changes his battery, and begins — '' Another person would 
have indulged those feelings, and imagined he was really 
humble, but you know better ; you can detect and banish pride 
at once, as you ought to do." Thus this hateful enemy con- 
tinually harasses me. What a proof that the heart is the na- 
tive soil of pride, when it thus contrives to gather strength 
from those very exercises which one would think must destroy 
it utterly ! 

" My other chief besetting sin, which v/ill cut out abundance 
of work for me, is fondness for applause. When I sit down to 
write, this demon is immediately in the way, prompting to 
seek for such observations as will be admired, rather than 
such as will be felt, and have a tendency to do good. My 
proneness to these two evils, which I have mentioned, makes 
me think I shall have but little sensible comfort in this world, 
and that I shall be tried by many and grievous afflictions, in 
order to keep me humble and dependant. However, it is of 
no consequence. I know my great Physician is both able 
and willing to cure me, and I leave the manner to him ; trust- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 47 

ing he will enable me to take whatever he prescribes, and 
bless the prescription." 

" Portland, June 17, 1806. 
'' My dear Mother, 

" After I have told you that I have been unwell some time 
past, and that I am nov»^ as well as usual, my stock of informa- 
tion is exhausted — unless, indeed, I still make myself the sub- 
ject : and, for want of a better, I must. Owing partly, I be- 
lieve, to my ill health, I have been much afflicted with doubt, 
whether it is not my duty to give up preaching at all. I want, 
at times, to get as far back into the country as possible, and, 
on a little farm, lead a life as much remote from observation as 
circumstances will allow. It seems to me a little remarkable, 
that, while I am harassed with doubts and perplexities about 
every thing else, I feel none, or comparatively none, about 
my own state. If at any time such doubts intruded, they 
v/ere banished by that text, '^ I am he that blotteth out thy 
transgressions, for mine own saJce,^' But, lately, the very ab- 
sence of doubt has caused me to doubt ; for if I were a child 
of God, how should I be free from those doubts which trouble 
them ? But the greatest difficulty of all is, that the certainty 
which I almost ever feel of my safety, should have no more 
effect on my disposition and conduct. This seems to me 
more unaccountable than any thing else ; for even the devils, 
one would think, miglrt and would rejoice to think of ap- 
proaching happiness. 

** I have, for some time, had something like a desire to be- 
come a missionary. I have not mentioned it before, because 
I doubted whether it would not be only a temporary wish. I 
should feel less backward to preach to savages, or white men 
little above savages, than any where else. However, I hope 
Providence will, some way or other, get me into the place 
where I shall be most useful, be it what it may. I do not feel 
very solicitous in which way or in what situation. 

" I shall be in Boston about the 23d of August, and, after 
commencement, set out for Rindge, should nothing prevent. 
At present, I can write no more. The bearer is booted, whip- 
ped, chaired, and waiting. 

" Present my most affectionate regards to pa'. I shall 
make great encroachments on his time, when I come home. 

" Your affectionate son, 

" E. Payson." 

A desire to become a missionary, in 1806, was a less dubi- 
ous proof of expansive Christian benevolence, than it would be 



4B MEMOIR OF 

at the present day. The obligation of Christians to send the 
gospel to the heathen could not have been learned from any 
tliing which the American Church was then doing, or had 
done for d, long period. As to any visible movement, she ap- 
peared as indifferent to the claims of the unevangelized tribes 
of men, as though her Redeemer and Lord had not left it in 
charge, to *' preach the gospel to every creature." Mr. Pay- 
son was probably ignorant that another youthful bosom in the 
country panted with the same desire ; though it was about 
this time, if not in this very year — a coincidence which they 
who regard the works of the Lord, and the operation of his 
hands, will notice with pleasure — that Samuel J. Mills felt the 
desire, and formed the purpose, to devote his life to the service 
of Christ among the heathen — a purpose, however, which 
was known, first to his mother, and then to a few individuals 
only, till about four years afterwards. 

In the extracts which have been inserted from his letters, 
the reader has discovered his intimate acquaintance w ith the 
subtle workings of the human heart, and his unsleeping vigi- 
lance to detect and guard against its impositions. His self- 
knowledge, and the rigid self-inspection which he habitually 
maintained, v^ould appear in a still more striking light from 
his private diary, if that were spread before the public eye. — 
Neither friends nor foes could name a fault in him, which he 
had not detected, and condemned in terms of unsparing se- 
verity. They would find their severest judgments anticipated ; 
and they would find too — what the world little suspects of thu* 
Christian — that the smallest trespasses were the cause of 
heart-felt lamentation and grief in those hours of secret retire- 
ment, when no eye but Jehovah's was witness to his sorrow. 
In his example, the young aspirant for fame might see an illus- 
tration of the wise man's maxim, ** before honor is humility;" 
and that the surest path to an enduring reputation is found by 
** asking counsel of God," and '* acknowledging him in all our 
ways." Faithfulness, either to the dead or the living, cannot, 
however, require, that a very free use should be made of the 
record of what passed in the inward sanctuary of his soul — 
a record obviously designed for his private use only, and in 
characters intended to be illegible by every eye except his own. 
So much will, nevertheless, be inserted, as is necessary to 
substantiate the representations in this narrative, or disclose 
important facts in his history, which could be learned from 
no other source. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 49 

Extracts from his Diary. 

^* Feb. 5, 1806. For this fortnight past, I have enjoyed a 
tolerable share of assistance, but nothing transporting. Slov/ 
progress. 

** Feb, 7. Little opportunity for prayer in the morning ; 
yet God was pleased not wholly to desert me during the day, 
and, in the evening, favored me with clearer views of the glo- 
rious all-sufficiency of my Saviour, and of my absolute need 
of him, than I have before experienced. I could, in some 
measure, feel that my deepest humiliation V7as rank pride, and 
all that I am or can do, is sin. Yet, blessed be God, I can 
plead the suiferings and perfect obedience of Jesus Christ, in 
whom, though weak in myself, I am strong. 

*' Feb. 8. There is no vice, of which I do not see the 
seeds in myself, and which would bear fruit, did not grace 
prevent. Notwithstanding this, I am perpetually pulling the 
mote out of my brother's eye. 

'^ Feb. 9. Was much favored in prayer, and still more in 
reading the Bible. Every word seemed to come home with 
power. Of late, I have none of those rapturous feelings, which 
used to be so transporting ; but I enjoy a more calm and equa- 
ble degree of comfort; and, though slowly, yet surely, find 
myself advancing. 

** Feb. 11. A very dull day — almost discouraged ; yet 1 
hope the experience I gain of my utter inability to think so 
nmch as a good thought, will have a tendency to mortify pride. 
^' Feb. 15. Felt some liveliness in morning prayer, and 
some aspirations after greater measures of holiness. Resolved 
to observe this as a day of fasting and prayer. After seeking 
divine assistance, reflecting on the innumerable sins, of which 
my life has been full, and on the great aggravations that en- 
hance my guilt, I attempted, I hope sincerely, to give my- 
self and all I possess to God, in the renewal of my covenant 
engagements. 

'' Feb. 16. Very dull and lifeless in the morning. Made a 
resolution to restrain my temper, and the next moment broke 
it. Felt more lively at meeting. In the afternoon and even- 
ing, was remarkably favored. I felt such an overwhelming 
sense of God's amazing goodness, and my own un worthiness, 
as I never had before. It gave me a most earnest desire to 
spend and be spent in the service of God, in any way he should 
please to employ me. 

" Feb. 17. In the morning, felt strong in the Lord, and in 
the power of his might ; thought I could stand against all ene- 
5 



50 MEMOIR OF 

mies, but soon was as lifeless as ever. When shall I learn 
that all my sufficiency is of God ! 

** Feh. 19. What a poor, weak, unstable creature I am, 
when Christ is absent ! Read Baxter's Saints' Rest ; but, though 
it is very affectingly written, I was totally unmoved by it. 

^' Feh. 22. This is a day to be remembered. I determined 
to spend it in fasting and prayer, but was prevented. In the 
afternoon, received an invitation to spend the evening with , 



, &/C. ; but, thanks to divine goodness, was enabled to de- 
cline it. I tasted much sweetness in the former part of the 
evening ; but in the latter part, I was favored with such dis- 
plays of divine goodness, as almost forced me to exclaim, Lord, 
stay thine hand ! 

" Feh. 23. Was again favored with the divine presence. — 
I have some expectation of a heavy stroke impending. If it is 
so, God's will be done. 

'' Feh. 24. A great falling off from the enjoyments and 
life of yesterday ; yet, blessed be God, I am not wholly de- 
serted. I was much favored in speaking to the scholars, and 
they seemed rather more affected than common. But I have 
suffered much to-day from the attacks of spiritual pride. This, 
I already see, will be the enemy against which my efforts must 
be directed, and which will cost me most conflicts. But I trust 
in an almighty arm. 

*' Feh. 26. I drag along without advancing. O, how dis- 
proportionate are my endeavors to the mighty prize for which 
I contend ! 

*^ Feb. 28. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and 
prayer. Did so, but found no relief Was astonishingly dead 
and wandering. In reading Mr. Brainerd's life, I seemed to 
feel a most ardent desire after sorne portion of his spirit ; but, 
when I attempted to pray, it vanished. I could not even 
mourn over my coldness. 

" March 3. In the evening, partly by my own fault, and 
partly by accident, got entangled in vain company. After- 
wards was in most exquisite distress of mind. Had a clearer 
view of my own sinfulness and vileness than ever. 

*^ March 4. I seem rather to go back than to advance. What 
a display of divine power, to make a saint of such a wretch as I ! 

*' March 6. My time flies like a vapor, and nothing is done. 
When shall I begin to live for God ! 

'* March 8. I cannot accuse myself of indulging in any 
known sin, or neglecting any known duty; but I am so life- 
less, so little engaged in religious things, that I seem to believe 
as though I believed not. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 51 

" March 10. Found considerable freedom in prayer. Was 
too passionate in a dispute about a theatre. Had little free- 
dom in speaking to the scholars. Was enabled to be diligent 
in filling up my time. Was assisted in my studies. 

** March 12. 1 act as if eternal things were a dream. When 
shall I be wise ! 

** March 13. Favored with great liberty in prayer. Was 
enabled to pray for others more than usual. 

'' March 17. Thanks to divine goodness, this has been a 
good day to me. Was favored with considerable freedom in 
the morning, and rejoiced in the Lord through the day. But 
in the evenincr, felt an unusual des^ree of assistance, both in 
prayer and study. Since I began to beg God's blessing 

ON MY STUDIES, I HAVE DONE MORE IN ONE WEEK THAN IN 

THE WHOLE YEAR BEFORE. Surcly, it is good to draw near to 
God at all times. 

*' March 19. Less freedom in prayer than usual. In the 
evening, was betrayed into folly, if not into sin. Could neither 
write nor read with any profit. What a miserable creature 
am I, when Jesus withdraws his assistance ! Was very positive 
in a trifle, and was justly punished by finding myself in the 
wrong. Hope it will prove a profitable lesson to me. 

" March 23. Am much exercised respecting applying for 
license to preach, and afraid I am under the influence of im- 
proper motives ; but I trust my Guide will direct me. 

'' March 28. Read Pike's Saving Faith ; and, though at 
first I was somewhat alarmed v/iih fears that I had it not, yet, 
bliessed be God, my fears and doubts were soon removed. 1 
was enabled to appeal to God for a witness of what he has done 
for me. I know that I love my Saviour ; and, though my love 
is infinitely short of his merits, I trust He who gave it me can 
and will increase it. I am sinful, but He died for sinners. — 
Felt unusual fervency and sweetness in prayer, and reading the 
Scriptures, and was encouraged to go on, striving for more ho- 
liness. 

'^ March 29. Renewed my covenant with God. Asked 
assistance to do it with sincerity. My prayer was answered in 
an unusual degree. I had a clearer view of my own vileness 
and depravity, and a more distinct and satisfying perception of 
Christ's all-sufficiency and goodness, by far, than I ever enjoy- 
ed before ; so that I was ready to think I had never known any 
thincr of the matter. Was enabled to sav, Abba, Father! in 
the true spirit of adoption, and to exercise strong faith in Christ 
and love to him. 

*^ March 30. Had more comfort in ordinances than ever 



52 MEMOIR OF 

before. I was almost ready to think this the period of my 
conversion. The transport I felt was more rational and pene- 
trating than I ever before experienced. It arose from an ap- 
prehension of the perfect sufficiency of Christ in all his offices, 
and from a clear discovery of God as my Father, so that I was 
enabled to trust, rejoice, and exult in him. 

*' April 2. Was enabled in some measure to guard against 
a peevish, impatient disposition. In the evening, unusually 
lively and fervent in prayer. 

'^ Ajjinl 5. Was very much harassed with wandering 
thoughts, this morning. Sought to Christ for deliverance, and 
found it Have fresh reason to think visiting is detriment- 
al. In the evening, was exceedingly depressed with a sense of 
my vileness. I wished to shrink from society and observation. 
Could hardly think of attempting to preach. Threw myself at 
the feet of my blessed Saviour, and poured forth my sorrows 
and complaints before him. Yet I suspect there was more of 
self than any other principle in my tears. 

'' April 8. Was much exercised to-day on the subject of 
election, and other truths connected with it. Have been much 
in doubt respecting offering myself for examination next month. 
Fear I am not under the influence of proper motives. 

" Ap7nl 13. Sabbath. Felt the love of God sweetly shed 
abroad in my heart. Continued in this frame all the morning. 
Derived much more advantage from ordinances than usual, 
especially from the sacrament. A profitable day. 

^^ April 14. Was in a comfortable frame this morning. — 
Had some assistance in speaking to my scholars. But, alas ! 
my heart before noon betrayed me into sin. I fell into a pas- 
sion with an inanimate substance ; and thought, if I did not 
utter, curses. Was soon aroused to a sense of my folly and guilt. 

^* April 19. I know not why, but this has been the worst 
week 1 have had these six months. Believe I expected too 
much from the sacrament. 

'^ April 20. Had some sense of my miserable state, but lit- 
tle fervency in seeking relief Suspect the weather and my 
health have some influence on me. In the evening, had more 
fervency, but not more sensible assistance. Was, however, 
resigned to my Master's will, and enabled to trust in him. 

*^ April 26. Was much favored in my approaches to the 
throne of grace to-day. 

*' 3Iai/ 1. Rose early, and had some life and comfort. Have 
been so much engaged in preparing my sermon for examina- 
tion, that my mind has been much taken oft from religion. I 
find writing sermons is not praying. 



EDWARD FAYSON. 53 

" May 4. It is now long since I have enjoyed any of those 
sweet seasons of communion with God, which used to be my 
chief happiness. I fear I have neglected the Scriptures too 
much. Am determined to pay more attention to them. 

" May 13. This was the day in which I intended to be ex- 
amined before the Association, but it pleased Providence to 
prevent. In the evening, reflected on my late coldness and 
backwardness in religion, and resolved, by the help of divine 
grace, to run with more alacrity the race set before me. 

'' May 18. I think I never was so favored in prayer for so 
long a period in my life. At meeting, tolerably lively. In the 
intermission, and after meeting, was enabled to spend the time 
profitably, so that I never was favored with a more profitable 
Sabbath. 

^' May 19. Enjoyed considerable fervor in the morning, 
and some life in speaking to my scholars. Engaged in a dis- 
pute at breakfast ; and foolishly became angry. Retired and 
prayed for him with whom I was angry, and for myself Was 
enabled, in a considerable degree, to conquer my anger in this 
matter. 

^^ May 20. Find some remains of anger, notwithstanding 
all my endeavors to suppress it. 

" May 22. Since I began, in pursuance of my design, to 
read the Scriptures, I have enjoyed more of the divine pres- 
ence than before. 

" May 23. Was favored in prayer. — Was applied to by 
the selectmen to deliver an oration on the 4th of July. Re- 
fused at first ; but, being persuaded to consider of it, pride and 
vanity prevailed, and I foolishly complied. — Mem. Never to 
consider, when I have a presentiment, at first, what I ought 
to do. 

'' Sabhafh, June 1. Sacrament. Enjoyed much of the di- 
vine presence and assistance in prayer and meditation. Have 
never had a more profitable morning. Found my Saviour in 
his ordinances. Hope I have found this a good day. Seem.- 
ed to feel more property in Christ and his benefits than I had 
ever done before. After meeting, was filled with the blessed 
consolations of the Spirit. O, how refreshing are those fore- 
tastes of heaven ! How ravishing the presence of Jesus ! Felt 
a, full assurance of my interest in the blessings purchased 
hj Christ. No doubts obscured the sunshine' of my mind. 
God be praised. 

" June 9. Resolved to spend all the time before six in re- 
ligious exercises. Enjoyed some comfort in prayer. 

" June 15. Sabbath. Never felt such strong and lively 
5* 



54 MEMOIR OF 

faith in prayer as this morning. It seemed as if I had noth- 
ing to do but to take whatever I pleased. 

^^ June 17. Was much harassed with wandering thoughts 
in morning prayer. Was much assisted in my studies. 

^'June 28. Felt myself exceedingly vile. Found no com- 
fort in the exercises of public worship. My oration is a snare 
to me. O, what an astonishing, bewitching power a thirst for 
applause has over my mind ! I know it is of no consequence 
what mankind think of me, and yet I am continually seeking 
their approbation. 

''June 29. Sabbath. Rose early, and was favored with 
the presence and assistance of the blessed Spirit in prayer. 
O, how sweet and refreshing it is to pour out our souls before 
God ! — O, the wonderful and unmerited goodness of God, in 
keeping me from openly disgracing my profession ! If he had 
left me one moment to myself, I had been ruined. Next Sab- 
bath is the sacrament. God grant that it may be a refreshing 
season to me, and many others. 

" July 2. Still harassed and perplexed about my oration. 
Could not have believed, that the desire of applause had gain- 
ed such power over me. 

" July 4. Was enabled to ask for assistance to perform the 
services of the day. In the evening, felt in a most sweet, 
humble, thankful frame. How shall I praise the Lord for all 
his goodness ! 

'' July 5. Felt much of the same temper I experienced 
yesterday. ' In the evening, was favored with much of the di- 
vine presence and blessing in prayer. — Mem, Applause can- 
not confer happiness ! 

''July 0. Sabbath. My infinitely gracious God is still 
present, to make his goodness pass before me. He has been 
with me this morning in prayer, and enabled me sweetly to 
say, My Fcither, my God. At the sacrament, my gracious 
Saviour favored me with some tokens of his presence. O that 
I could find w^ords to express half his goodness, or my own vile- 
ness ! I hope my faith received some increase. But what 1 
desire to praise my God for, is his wonderful goodness in as- 
sisting me against pride. 

"July 7. Still favored with the smiles of my blessed Lord. 
Surely his loving kindness is better than life. How conde- 
scendingly kind ! I hope he is teaching me the value of 
worldly applause, and how incompetent it is to afford happi- 
ness. I have had enough to satisfy me, if there were any 
satisfaction in it. But happiness is to be found in God 
alone. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 55 

^^ July 18. Very little comfort in prayer. Have fallen into 
a sad, lifeless state the week past. Hope it will convince 
me, more strongly than ever, of my weakness and vileness. 

Sat up till 2 o'clock at night, talking with Mr. , on 

religious topics. Found he had more to say in defence of 
Unitarianism, than I could have supposed. 

*' July 23. I am entirely stupid. Am sensible of my situ- 
ation, and mourn over it, in some measure, but cannot escape. 

^* July 24. No life at all. O that it were with me as in 
months past! — In the evening, was favored v^^ith more of the 
divine presence than I have enjoyed this fortnight. 

" July 25. Spent the day, according to previous resolution, 
in fasting and prayer. Was favored vv^ith much of the divine 
presence and blessing, so that it w^as a comfortable and profit- 
able day to me. Called to mind the events of my past life, the 
mercies I ha.ve received, and the ill returns I have made for 
them. Felt a deep sense of my own unworthiness, and the 
unmerited goodness of God. 

^^ July 27. Was alarmed with respect to my state, by read- 
ing Edwards on the Affections ; but obtained comfort and as- 
surance by prayer. 

'^ Aug. 2. Was much engaged in prayer, and thought I 
was humbled under a sense of sin. Was enabled to plead 
with some earnestness for spiritual blessings. But afterwards, 
reading an account of the conversion of some persons, I was 
led to doubt whether I had ever known what it meant, and 
was much distressed. 

'^ Aug. 3. Was again disturbed with apprehensions that I 
knew nothing of relicrion ; but, thouo;h I could not come to 
Christ, as one of his members, I threw myself down before 
him, as a sinner, who needed his mediation, and my doubts 
vanished. 

'• Aug. 4. Rose with the impression, that all I had former- 
ly experienced v/as a delusion, and that I was still an enemy 
to God. Was enabled to go to Jesus, and plead earnestly for 
mercy, not for my own sake, but for his. I seemed determin- 
ed, if I must perish, to perish at his feet ; but perhaps I 
w^as deceived. However, my hopes began to revive. In 
the evening, foolishly v/ent into company, and had no time for 
prayer. 

'' Aug. 16. Seemed to be something more alive to divine 
things; this morning. Found some sweetness in prayer and 
reading the Scriptures. In the evening, was much assisted in 
preparation for the sacrament to-morrow." 



56 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER IV. 

Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively to his prep- 
aration for the ministry. 

In the month of August, 1806, Mr. Payson relinquished his 
charge of the Academy in Portland ; and ^ after settling his 
business, went on board a packet for Boston,' in which he re- 
mained several days, '^ tossed about by contrary winds, and 
wounded by the oaths and blasphemies of the wretches on 
board." He has described '^ a set" of his fellow passengers 
by two words, indicative of all that is revolting to modesty and 
pious feeling, and suited to '' vex the righteous soul ;" the 
bare mention of which would cause others to join him in the 
exclamation — ^* How dreadful to spend an eternity among 
such wretches !" On the fifth day from his embarkation, the 
vessel ^^ arrived in Boston in a violent gale of wind, attended 
with some danger." He tarried in the neighborhood, till after 
commencement, and, notwithstanding the ^ noise and confu- 
sion, found more pleasure than he had expected, in meeting 
his classmates.' On his way from Cambridge to Rindge, 
he rode as far as Groton ; but whether the stage rested there 
over night, or took a different route, and his desire to tread 
again the threshold of his beloved home, alone urged him for- 
ward — so it was, that he left the stage, and ^^ walked home 
from Groton after six" in the evening, and was at his jour- 
ney's end ^^ about four the next morning," ready to ^'receive 
the congratulations of his friends." His father's house con- 
tinued, from this time, to be his hallowed and chosen retire- 
ment, till he entered on the active duties of the ministry. 

'^ Wisdom's self 
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude 5 
Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, 
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings." 

This step, considered in all its aspects, may justly be re- 
garded as one of the most important in Mr! Payson's life, and 
reflects the highest honor on his judgment and good sense. 
Four months previously to this time, as has been seen in the 
preceding pages, he seriously contemplated making application 
for license to preach the gospel. Whatever were the cause 



EDWARD PAYSON 57 

that prevented him, a gracious providence is visible in it ; not 
that he was particularly deficient in sacred learning ; on the 
contrary, his theological knowledge was probably equal to that 
of most 'candidates.' Among the works which he is known* 
to have read with care, might be named V/atson's Tracts, Wit- 
sius, Stackhouse, Jonathan Edwards, besides many w^orks of 
devotion and practical divinity. Abstracts of several other 
treatises still exist in his hand-writing, which were made before 
he left Portland ; also a collection of '* Thoughts on the Com- 
position and Delivery of Sermons." Still, during all this time, 
he was invested with a public trust of no light responsibility. 
His school must have mainly engrossed his time, his thoughts, 
and his cares. To suppose that his professional studies v/ere 
allowed more than a secondary claim to his attention, v/ere to 
suppose him unfaithful to an importrmt charge, Vv'hich he had 
voluntarily assumed. And though he could hardly have been 
other than a distinguished preacher, even had he entered on 
the sacred office without further preparation, yet he would not 
have been the minister he afterwards was. This season of re- 
tirement has an intimate connexion wdth his subsequent emi- 
nence and usefulness. To the occupations of these days of 
seclusion from the world, more than to any other means, may 
be traced his gigantic ' growth in the knowledge of God,' and 
that extraordinary unction which attended his performance of 
official duties. 

This period of his history is memorable, and highly instruc- 
tive to the student of theology. Having, after much delibera- 
tion and prayer, chosen the ministry of reconciliation as the 
business of his future life, he gave himself up to the work of 
preparation wdth an exclusiveness and ardor perhaps never ex- 
ceeded. From every study and pursuit, whatever its charms 
and attractions, which w^as not directly subsidiary to his grand 
design, he resolutely divorced himself, — at least till he had 
acquired the art — analogous to the supposed properties of the 
philosopher's stone — " of turning all to gold." He seems to 
have concentrated and directed all his powers to the acquisi- 
tion of scriptural knowledge, and the cultivation of Christian 
and ministerial graces, in obedience to the apostolical precept, 
'^ give thyself wholly to them." A decision once formed was 
with him usually final ; and, in executing his purpose, " what- 

* His progress in some of them is noted in his diary, near the ^^ hiatus " al- 
ready spoken of, which probably contained more notices of the same kind. The 
diary, which was '^ commenced as a check upon the misemployment of time/' 
and which did at first record the occupations of every hour, ere long- became 
almost exclusively a record of his religious exercises and experience. 



58 MEMOIR OF 

ever his hand found to do he did with his might." These, his 
pernianent characteristics, were eminently conspicuous at 'this 
period, while learning to 

^' neg-otiale between God and man, 
As God's ambassador, the grand concerns 
Of judgment and of mercy." 

With the most exalted views of the holy office to which he was 
looking forward, and of the qualifications requisite to its com- 
petent and successful execution, he sought them with a pro- 
portionate zeal, devoting himself to the study of the sacred 
pages, if man ever did, ^' with all the heart, and soul and 
strength, and mind." ' 

For '' Systems of Divinity," as drawn up by men, Mr. Pay- 
son seems to have felt but little reverence. It was not his 
habit to decry them as useless ; but he regarded them with a 
watchful jealousy, and felt it unsafe to trust to them, as his 
practice evidently demonstrates. He found '' a more excellent 
ivay " to the knowledge of his Master's will, by consultino- 
directly '' the law and the testim.ony." Thus to honor the 
'Mively oracles" is the v/isest and safest course for every man; 
for to embrace a system, with the intention of retaining or 
rejecting it, either wholly or in part, as it shall afterwards be 
found to agree, or not, with Scripture, is to incur the hazard 
of perpetuating error— since a man's theory is more likely to 
modify his views of the Scriptures, than the Scriptures are to 
correct the mistakes of his theory. This every one may have 
observed in regard to those whose sentiments differ from his 
own. Before this time, indeed, the works of the most emi- 
nent divines of our own and other countries, which were then 
accessible, and which he is known to have read, had doubt- 
less exerted some influence in forming his religious opinions ; 
but he was obviously wedded to none. To none did he feel 
the attachment of a partisan ; he had not arrived to that state 
of mmd which made him feel interested to defend an opinion 
because any human mastc7^ had said it. The polluting and 
disorganizing tendency of loose opinions on the one hand, 
and the scarcely less deplorable effects of dogmatism on the 
other, which could not have escaped his observation, not less 
than the spirit of religion and his constitutional independence 
of mind, conspired to lead him to a just estimate of the value 
of human authority in matters of religious belief, and to con- 
summate his reverence for the " sure word of prophecy," and 
his confidence in Revelation, as an adequate foundation for 
his faith, and an infallible guide in duty. 

'' Here is firm footing— all is sea besides." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 59 

Most men, however discordant their principles, profess to 
have derived them from the Scriptures ; but, with Mr. P., this 
was something more than pretence. The Bible was with him 
the subject of close, critical, persevering, and, for a time, al- 
most exclusive attention, his reading being principally confined 
to such writings as would assist in its elucidation, and unfold 
its literal meanino-. In this manner he studied the whole of 
the Inspired Volume, from beginning to end, so that there 
was not a verse on which he had not formed an opinion. 
This is not asserted at random. It is but a few years since, 
that, in conversation with a candidate for the ministry, he 
earnestly recommended very particular and daily attention to 
the study of the Scriptures, and enforced his counsel by his 
own experience of the advantages which would accrue from 
the practice. He observed that before he commenced preach- 
ing, he made it his great object to know what the Bible' taught 
on every subject, and, with this purpose, investigated every 
sentence in it so far as to be able ' to give an answer to every 
man who should ask a reason for it.'* 

In this way he acquired his unparalleled readiness to meet 
every question, on every occasion, whether proposed by a cav- 
iller or a conscientious inquirer, which, it is well knov/n, he 
usually did in a manner as satisfactory as it often was unex- 
pected. The advantages hence derived w^ere, in his viev, 
be3^ond all computation. It secured for him the unlimited 
confidence of people in the common w^alks of life, as '^ a man 
mighty in the Scriptures." It gave him great influence with 
Christians of other denominations. It enabled him to con- 
found and silence gainsayers, when they could not be convin- 
ced, as well as to build up the elect of God on their most holy 
faith. It furnished him, too, with ten thousand forms of illus- 
tration, or modes of conveying to ordinary minds the less ob- 
vious truths, with which he was conversant in the exercise of 
his ministry. He believed ^' all Scripture to be given by in- 
spiration of God, and profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for 

^ It is not here alleged that Dr. Payson comprehended all that Is contamed 
in the Scriptures, much less that he arrogated to himself such knowledge 5 for, 
though " the word of Christ dwelt richly " in him, he doubtless continued to 
'' increase in the knowledge of God'' by every perusal of it, how often soever 
repeated, till the last, and even then saw as through a glass, darkly, compared 
\yith the visions of heaven. Some truths cannot be fully comprehended, and 
may have various relations which never will be known on earth. Many things 
respecting iinfulfilled predictions can be known by no man till after their ac- 
complishment. But he had made every passage a distinct object of attention, 
and, if ^' hard to be understood,'' he could state to the inquirer the causes of 
the obscurity, and in the very fact find a powerful motive to humility, diligence, 
and prayer for divine illumination, thus rendering the darkest texts " profitable.'^ 



(50 MEMOIR OF 

correction, and for instruction in righteousness f and he was 
himself a most striking exemplification of its competency to 
render '* the man of God perfect, thoroughly furnished unto 
every good work." 

Of Mr. Payson's devotion to the Scriptures there is evi- 
dence of a different nature from that which has just been 
given. Among his papers has been found a small manuscript 
volume, containing " Notes" on most of the books of Scrip- 
ture. It is among the few interesting relics of this period of 
his life. The manuscript ends wath remarks on 1 John, v. 8. 
Whether they were continued, in another volume, to the end 
of Revelation, does not appear. These notes are short in 
themselves, and much abbreviated in the form of expression, 
but bear marks of a kind and extent of investigation highly 
creditable to his learning* and judgment, as well as to his 
diligence and fidelity. Discrepancies are accounted for and 
reconciled ; figures are explained ; chronology, philosophy, to- 
pography, natural history, ancient languages, are made to con- 
tribute to the elucidation of Scripture. Against prophecies, 
which have received their completion, are found references to 
the historical characters and events by which they are suppos- 
ed to have been fulfilled. It is difficult to characterize these 
notes by any general term, except that they are exegetical, in 
distinction from practical and experimental. Those on the 
New Testament are professedly collated, in part ; and, though 
the same should, on examination, be found true of the rest, 
the manuscript is evidence of his careful study of the Scrip- 
tures ; and for this purpose it was introduced to notice. 

To learn more fully Mr. Payson's estimate of the Scriptures, 
the reader should peruse, in this connexion, his sermon, en- 
titled ^^ The Bible above all Price." In that discourse the 
preacher is much at home ; he treads on ground where he 
delighted to linger. lie explores a field with whose riches 
and beauties he was familiar. He clusters together its excel- 
lences w4th a dexterous and bountiful hand, and describes its 
efficacy like one who ' spoke that which he knew, and testified 
that which he had seen.' His familiarity with the Scriptures 
was strikingly apparent in his pulpit addresses generally ; not 
so much by long quotations as by their general spirit, and the 
sacred associations he was continually awakening. They bore 
prominent traces of the divine model he so faithfully studied, 

■^ To what extent Dr. Payson was familiar with the original language of the 
Old Testament, the writer is not informed. That it was among" the objects of 
his attention at this time, there is evidence in his own hand-writinff 5 but none 
very conclusive that his acquaintance with Hebrew was minute and critical. 



EDWARD PAYSON. gl 

not in matter only, but in the manner of exhibiting it, — so 
plain, that his hearers could not but see it, — enforced by con- 
siderations so reasonable and moving, that they must feel self- 
condemned for rejecting it. They were not the cold abstrac- 
tions of a speculative mind, but the doctrines which are ac- 
cording to godliness, clothed in the fervid language which 
affection dictates. They were not truths merely ; but truths 
uttered by one who had felt their power, and experienced their 
consolations, under the influence of that Spirit, who, to use 
his own expressive language, ^' lives and speaks in every line." 
But there is another part of his example more difhcult to 
imitate than the one just sketched. He prayed without ceas- 
ing. Aware of the aberrations to which the human mind is 
liable, he most earnestly sought the guidance and control of 
the Holy Spirit. He felt safe nowhere but near the throne 
of grace. He may be said to have studied theology on his 
knees. Much of his time he spent literally prostrated, with 
the Bible open before him, pleading the promises — '' 1 will 
send the Comforter — -and when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, 
he will guide you into all truth." He was especially jealous of 
his own heart, and, to conquer its evil propensities, subjected 
his body as well as his mind to the severest discipline. No 
man ever strove harder to " mortify the flesh, with the atfec- 
tions and lusts." It is almost incredible, what abstinence and 
self-denial he voluntarily underwent, and what tasks he im- 
posed on himself, that he might '^ bring every thought into 
captivity to the obedience of Christ." He allowed himself only 
a small part of the twenty-ibur hours for sleep* ; and his sea- 
sons of fasting were injuriously frequent. So far did he carry 
his abstinence from food, that his family were alarmed for his 
safety. Oflen has his mother, v*^hom he most tenderly loved 
and reverenced, and whose wishes were law to him, in every 
thing besides his religious principles, and intercourse with his 
Maker — in every thing, in short, which did not bind the con- 
science — oflen has his mother, or a favorite sister, stood at the 
door of his chamber, with a little milk, or some other refresh- 
ment equally simple, pleading in vain for admission. 

* The following division and appropriation of liis time was entered in his dia- 
ry about five weeks after his return to his father^s : 

" Oct. 5. Resolved to devote, in future, twelve hours to study 3 tico to de- 
votion 5 two to relaxation ; tioo to meals and family devotions ; and six to 
sleep." But this did not long satisfy him. His rigid notions of duty led him to 
subtract two hours from the six devoted to sleep, and to multiply his seasons 
of fasting to a degree which the human system could not long have sustained. 
A weekhj fast, however, was habitual v/ith him, from this time till his last sick- 
ness. 

6 



52 MEMOIR OF 

The expediency or duty of such severe mortification turns 
on the question of its necessity to the attainment of the object, 
for which, in this instance, it was practised. If the subjection 
of the heart and mind, with all their powers, to Christ, could 
not otherwise be effected, he was unquestionably right ; for no 
sacrifice or suffering, which is requisite to this, can be too 
great. " If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off; if thine eye 
cause thee to offend, pluck it out." It is moreover true, that 
the most eminent saints of ancient and later times have de- 
voted frequent seasons to private fasting and prayer ; and the 
practice may, therefore, be ranked among the essential means 
of rapid and extensive growth in grace. It were well for in- 
dividuals, it were well for the church, if the practice should 
revive, and become common.* So far from weakening the 
charities of life, or diminishing the amount of active, social 
duties, it would greatly enhance them. We should witness a 
more vigorous and determined piety, a more diffusive and effi- 
cient benevolence. 

Still the religion of Christ enjoins no needless austerities, 
It has at times called, and may again call, for the sacrifice of 
health, and life, and treasure ; for the renunciation of friends, 
and home, and all its endearments. But in ordinary circum- 
stances, ^ Godliness is profitable unto all things — to the life 
tfeat now is, as well as that which is to come.' It did not re- 
quire injurious excess of abstinence and mortification in one 
situated as Mr. Payson w^as. He afterwards saw his error — 
not in fasting, but in fasting so long— and lamented it. In 
this matter, his mother was the wiser counsellor. What she 
feared came upon him ; the unhappy consequences to his 
health were felt, it is believed, to his dying day. 

The truth is, Mr. Payson never did any thing by halves. 
Whatever were the objects immediately before him, he was 
totus in illis, wholly engrossed with them. He was therefore 
particularly liable, at this stage of his experience, glowing, as 
he did, with all the ardors of a first love, and panting for the 
honor of winning souls to Jesus, to give an undue intensity to 

'• There are some distinguished laborers in the vineyard of our Lord, who 
practise the essential duty here recommended, not so much by totally abstain- 
mg from food beyond the accustomed intervals, as by ' denying themselves' at 
every meal, and using a spare and simple diet at all times, — a course well 
adapted to preserve both mind and body in the best condition for biblical re- 
search and devotional exercises. This modification of the duty was much 
practised by Mr. Payson, and strongly recommended by him to the members 
of his church. He would have them, when fasting on their own private ac- 
count, not " appear unto men to fast 3" but to come to the table, which was 
spread for their families, with a cheerful countenance, and partake sparingly of 
its provisions. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 63 

the meaning of those passages which prescribed his personal 
duty. When he read the strong language of Paul — *' mortify 
your members, that are upon the earth ;" and contemplated his 
example — ^' I keep under my body, and bring it into subjec- 
tion ;" and desired above all things to be another such champi- 
on of the cross ; his susceptible and ardent mind might have 
imbibed views of duty, which needed to be corrected by another 
remark of the same apostle — '* bodily exercise profiteth little." 
When attended with the expectation, however latent, that it 
will purchase immunities, or merit heaven, so far from ^ profit- 
ing' at all, it vitiates the act, rendering it not only useless, but 
abominable. Such an expectation, however, was totally ab- 
horrent to all Dr. Pay son's views ; and its existence in the 
faintest degree is not to be supposed on any other principles 
than those which are common to men, whose deceitful hearts 
practise innumerable impositions, unsuspected by their pos- 
sessors. 

If "he who ruleth his spirit is greater than he who taketh 
a city," the rigid discipline and government, to which Mr. Pay- 
son subjected the passions of the mind, and the appetites of the 
body, afford the most conclusive proof of his real greatness, as 
well as of his decision and energy of character, and of his 
unshaken adherence to his purposes. Ignorance and preju- 
dice, under a show of superior discernment, will see in this 
conduct the future ''pope;" for prejudice, like malice, will re- 
main blind to one important fact, which should never be lost 
sight of in estimating Mr. Payson's character. Except in 
things expressly enjoined in the Scriptures, he never, at this 
time or afterwards, made his own practice a law for others. — 
If he '' bound heavy burdens and grievous to be borne," he 
did not ' lay them on other men's shoulders,' but made his 
own bear their oppressive w^eight. He urged self-denial, prayer, 
and fasting, indeed, as he was obliged by the authority under 
which he acted ; but left the measure and degree to the decis- 
ion of each man's conscience. He knew more than others of 
the strength of depravity in his own heart, and supposed he 
had need of severe measures to subdue it; that it was of a 
' kind,' of which he could not be dispossessed ' but by prayer 
and fasting.' He rightly judged, too, that a minister of the 
meek and self-denying Jesus needed a more than ordinary 
share of humility and self-government, to be separated far- 
ther from the contaminations of the world than other men, and 
to have the habitual state of his affections more heavenly. — 
Moreover, he had an overwhelming sense of ministerial respon- 
sibility, and looked forward to the office, not without hope in- 



64 MEMOIR OF 

deed, but yet trembling for the results. Why then should he 
not learn to * endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus 
Christ V And yet thousands of nominal Christians will cen- 
sure this severe regimen, as criminal, by whom he would have 
been suffered to escape without animadversion, had he indulg- 
ed in an occasional surfeit, and mingled in parties of pleasure. 

But who can say, that he was not moved by an influence 
which it would have been sinful to resist, at least till he had 
reached that limit, beyond which perseverance was excess ? 
That God, who sees the end from the beginning, fits his in- 
struments for the peculiar service which he is preparing for 
them. A great and arduous work was appointed for Mr. 
Payson, as the event proved. And for that kind of prepara- 
tion, which consists in fasting and communion with God, he 
had the high example of the Jewish lawgiver, and of One 
greater than Moses. Thus did Christ, our Exemplar, previous 
to entering on his public ministry ; and also when from among 
his disciples he ^ chose twelve, whom he named apostles.* — 
Thus did the apostles, after Christ's ascension, whenever they 
were called to set apart a brother to the work of the ministry. 

In this, however, and other duties, the time, manner, and 
extent of which are left undetermined by the express statutes 
of Christ's kingdom, it is safer to act according to our convic- 
tions of duty, for the time being, than to make these convic- 
tions our unchangeable rule of conduct for future time. It is 
a wise direction, "Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thy 
heart be hasty to utter any thing before God." In binding 
ourselves by vows to any course of conduct, regard should be 
had to our circumstances, as social beings, dependent on one 
another, as well as on the Author of our existence. No man, 
perhaps, ever reached any high degree of eminence, who did 
not form purposes and resolutions, and adhere to them, when 
formed, with some degree of constancy. There are obvious 
advantages in having our general course marked out before us — 
in prosecuting our various duties by system, and not at random. 
But when we descend to details, and assign, beforehand, to 
every hour of the day its employment, or oblige ourselves to 
fill up a given number of hours with a particular pursuit, we 
should not overlook the limits of human ability, nor the thou- 
sand changes which may take place in our circumstances, and 
in our relations with those beings, among whom God has plac- 
ed us. In consequence of such changes, other duties may 
have a paramount claim to those very hours ; and if our reso- 
lutions are formed without an eye to such contingencies, they 
may prove a snare to us. Disappointments will be unavoida- 



EDWARD PAYSON. ^ 

ble ; vexation and discouragement will ensue. It is not to be 
presumed that Mr. Payson formed his purposes without refer- 
ence to the vicissitudes of the human condition. Still, his 
chagrin on failing sometimes to accomplish ^them, affords rea- 
son to think that he might have been too sanguine. It is a 
little remarkable, that the next day after he had sketched the 
plan for his future daily employment, unforeseen events neces- 
sarily prevented his executing it : — 

'* Oct. 6. In great confusion this morning — sister sick — 
father going a journey — ^little time for prayer. Was so much 
hindered in various ways, that I did not fulfil my twelve hours.'' 

From causes equally beyond his control, he often failed of 
accomplishing all that he prescribed to himself Such were, 
nevertheless, his most laborious days. When hindered and 
diverted from his object, he would goad himself onward to ex- 
traordinary exertion ; and when successful in executing his 
plan, his satisfaction was exquisite. 

The influence of habitual prayer upon his studies, was so 
certain, and so operative, that the strength of his devotion 
seems, for the most part, to have been the measure of his prog- 
ress. By his very near approaches to the Father of lights, his 
mind received, as it were, the direct beams of the Eternal 
Fountain of illumination. In the light of these beams, the 
truths of religion were distinctly perceived, and their relations 
readily traced. These irradiations from the throne of God 
not only contributed to the clearness of his perceptions, but 
imparted a kind of seraphic energy and quickness to his men- 
tal operations. From them he derived, not light only, but heat. 
Few requests were urged by him more constantly and ear- 
nestly, than his petitions for assistance in study ; and not un- 
frequently he records results similar to the following — " Was 
much assisted in my studies this evening, so that, notwith- 
standing I was interrupted, I was enabled to write twelve 
pages of my sermon. It was the more precious, because it 
seemed to be in answer to prayer." Those, who would esteem 
such an '* evening's work" as too insignificant to be noticed 
with special gratitude, should know, that he had now been 
only part of a month in his retirement. Three days later he 
writes — " Was most remarkably assisted in study, so that I 
wrote three fourths of a sermon." And on the other hand, 
there are entries of a different character. One may serve as a 
specimen : — 

D * 



66 MEMOIR OF 

" Sept. 23. Was quite dull and lifeless in prayer, and, in 
consequence, had no success in study." 

Sometimes even his *' lively," fervent prayers were not fol- 
lowed by immediate returns ; but when the answer was grant- 
ed, it brought with it a rich compensation for the extreme per- 
plexity and distress, which the delay occasioned him : — 

^'March 4. Was entirely discouraged respecting my stud- 
ies, and almost determined to give up in despair. But see the 
goodness of God ! He enabled me to write a whole sermon, 
besides reading a great deal ; and in the evening, was pleased 
to lift up the light of his countenance upon me. O, how re- 
freshing, strengthening, and animating are his smiles ! How 
ravishing the contemplation of his holiness, love, wisdom, pow- 
er and goodness ! He seemed to be a boundless ocean of love ; 
and the sight caused my heart to expand with love to him and 
all his creatures. O, how trifling do earthly beauties appear, 
when he is pleased to unveil his face, and give a glimpse of 
heaven ! His holiness is the chief glory of his nature." 

But in nothing was his progress more rapid, than in self- 
knowledge. Here — whether success or disappointment crown- 
ed his other pursuits — he was continually extending his dis- 
coveries. To those who are ignorant of " the plague of their 
own heart," his confessions of sin must appear extravagant, 
and his description of his heart, a picture having no original 
save in an apostate spirit. He calls it ''a compound of every 
thing bad." He likens it to the * bottomless pit ; out of it — 
as soon as the door, with which the Holy Spirit covers it, is 
opened by his absence — a thick, noisome smoke arises, with a 
tribe of hellish locusts, that devour the tender plants of grace, 
and bring on a darkness which may be felt.' Now, he is 
' crushed into the very dust by a recollection of the sins of his 
youth ;' — now, ' filled with distressing feelings, and loses all 
hope, that he shall ever be fit to preach ;' while these very feel- 
ings he attributes to a criminal cause, as, ' disappointed pride, 
and a conscious inferiority to others.' At another time, he is 
' brought into temptations, which show his inward corruptions, 
against which he had been praying,' or which he had not be- 
fore suspected in himself Again, if he * attempts to approach 
the throne of grace, whole floods of evil imaginations carry him 
away ! so that he is fain to have recourse to unthought-of 
nethods to get rid of them.' And, not to prolong the enu- 



EDWARD PAYSON. g7 

meration, he is oppressed with ' such a sense of his insignifi- 
cance and vileness, that it seemed as if he should never open 
his mouth any more, to boast, complain, or censure.' 

Still, his religion differed as widely fi-om that of the mere 
ascetic, as Christian charity differs from selfishness. Its fruits 
demonstrate the genuineness of the stock. His first care was, 
indeed, to have his own ' heart right with God ;' but he was, 
at the same time, fertile in good devices, and prompt to exe- 
cute them. To his mother, under domestic trials, the nature 
of which, though not indicated, appears to have caused her 
bitterness of soul, he was eminently '* a son of consolation." 
To other members of the family he strove to be useful. The 
eye, that could penetrate the walls of his chamber, might have 
seen him conducting a younger brother to the throne of grace, 
kneeling with him before the mercy-seat, and interceding with 
God for his salvation. He encountered a journey for the ex- 
press purpose of visiting an early friend, of whose piety he had 
once some hope, but who, he feared, had now become indif- 
ferent to the one thing needful — that he might know his state, 
and encourage him to seek that good part, which could not be 
taken from him. And so much were his benevolent feelings 
drawn forth towards the inhabitants of his native town, that he 
spared no suitable exertions for their spiritual good. A revival 
of religion among them was the subject of fervent prayer ; and 
in the same object he endeavored to enlist other Christians. He 
procured, through the agency of his mother, the institution of 
a weekly meeting of female members of the church, for united 
prayer that the work of God might be revived. In short, so 
far was he from being bound up in self, that he exerted him- 
self for the good of others in such ways as were proper for 
one in a state of pupilage. 

Even in the most distressing parts of his experience, there 
are discoverable those characteristics, which distinguish it 
from the torturing convictions of the unrenewed soul. If he 
is in ^^ a sullen, stupid frame," it is not without " some melting 
desires afler God." If he is well nigh '^ overcome by tempta- 
tion," it is that he may ^ rejoice the more at his deliverance, 
when God gives him the victory.' If he is ' discouraged be- 
cause of the difficulties of the way, and the small progress 
which he makes,' just as ' all hope seems departing, the fire 
burns within him.' Uniformly, his war is with himself, and 
not with his God. And if to prevent the night-watches ^ that 
he might meditate in God's word ; if to love the habitation of 
his house J and the place where his honor dwelleth ; if to ac- 
count himself and all things else as nothing for Christ's sake ; 



58 MEMOIR OF 

if to know in whom he has believed, and to draw near to him 
in full assurance of failh ; if to be satisfied as icith marrow 
and fatness, while remembering God and meditating on him in 
the night-watches ; if to prevent the dawning of the morning 
by the cries of prayer ; if to prefer Jerusalem above one's 
chief joy — are scriptural Tnarks of piety; then is his placed 
beyond suspicion. All these, and more, will be recognised in 
the extracts from his journal, with which this chapter con- 
cludes : — 

*' Sept. 29. Had a most transporting view of God's glory 
as consisting in pure holiness. I rejoiced greatly that he 
reigned, and could exalt his own glory. Henceforth, I will 
not doubt of my character ; for I know, yea, assuredly know, 
that I love God, my Saviour, and holiness. 

*' Oct. 19. Sabbath. Rose with thoughts of God on my 
mind. Was exceedingly assisted in secret and in family 
prayer. Never had my desires and affections so much drawn 
out after God and holiness. Was filled with the gracious in- 
fluences of the Spirit, so that I rejoiced with joy unspeakable 
and full of glory. Never did earth appear so small, heaven so 
desirable, the Saviour so precious, holiness so lovely, God so 
glorious, as now. In reading the Scriptures, they seemed to 
open with a clearness and force which delighted and astonish- 
ed me. Such a sweet, calm, soul-satisfying joy I never felt 
before in so great a degree. Nothing on earth seem^ worth 
a serious thought, but to glorify God. Had much of the same 
temper through the day. Was more assisted at meeting than 
ever before. In the evening, had a clearer sense of the evil of 
sin, a greater hatred of it, and more fixed resolutions against it 
than ever. This has been by far the most profitable and bless- 
ed day to my soul, that I ever experienced. God be praised ! 

^^Oct. 25. Was much depressed with a view of the nume- 
rous enemies which oppose my journey heavenward. Had a 
faint glimpse of Christ, as able to carry me through in spite of 
all. Never before had such a clear idea of the passage — If 
the righteous scarcely are saved. Seemed to be plunged in a 
bottomless ocean of sin and corruption, from which no efforts 
of my own could free me. 

" Nov. 2. Sacramental Sabbath. Blessed be God, who 
has caused his loving kindness to appear. Enjoyed much as- 
sistance in family and secret prayer. Was enabled to drag 
my sins to Christ, beseeching him to slay them for me. Af- 
terwards, enjoyed great sweetness in meditation. Was pre- 
served, in some measure, from v/andering thoughts at meet 



EDWARD PAYSON. 60 

ing. Had a profitable, though not a very happy time at com- 
munion. After meeting, was favored with considerable liberty 
in family and secret devotions. 

" Nov. 1 0. Had petitioned, last night, that I might awake 
at a given hour ; my petition was granted,* and I was assist- 
ed in prayer. Felt my dependence on God for strength. 
Was surprisingly favored all day. Was in a sweet, humble 
frame. I admired and loved the work, which Christ had 
wrought in my heart by his Spirit, just as I should have ad- 
mired it in any other. My faith seemed to be unusually 
strong, able to grapple with any thing. I felt all day, that I 
depended entirely on Christ for the continuance of my 
strength. 

^^ Nov, 18. After retiring to rest last night, was favored 
with an extraordinary display of divine grace. I rejoiced that 
the Lord reigned, that Jesus was exalted far above principali- 
ties and powers, I was permitted to approach very near him, 
and to plead with much confidence and earnestness for myself 
and others. Waked several times in the night in the same 
frame. In the morning, was favored with still clearer views, 
and more near access to my Saviour, and rejoiced with joy 
unspeakable and full of glory. Could not find words to utter 
my praises for such goodness. Had, too, a most humiliating 
view of my own vile and odious nature. 

*' Nov. 19. My gracious God is still loading me with his 
unmerited goodness. His mercies follow each other, as wave 
follows wave, and the last seems ever the greatest. This 
morning, I seem to enjoy the happiness of heaven. 

'^ Nov.^1. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and 
prayer for greater measures of grace, and assistance to render 
me more humble and concerned for God's glory ; for more 
love to God and his people, and for ministerial qualifications. 
After seeking the divine presence, for which I was enabled to 
plead with great earnestness, and a feeling sense that I could 
do nothing without it, I endeavored to recollect and confess 
my sins. I saw myself exceedingly vile, seemed the chief of 

* Referring to an altemath'e, which might affect his temporal comfort mere- 
ly, and not his usefulness, Mr. Fayson somewhere says — ^* I would not degrade 
prayer so much as to make it the subject of a petition.'' Those who think he 
here forgets his own maxim, should know, that the loss of his mominff hours 
was followed by a day of comparative uselessness and misery. It is, howev- 
er, our shame, that the standard of personal piety should now render necessa- 
ry an apology for such childlike simplicity in the devotions of a man of his ac- 
knowledged magnanimity. In nothing does he appear more worthy of imita- 
tion, than in his constant recognition of a Superintending Providence, and in 
literally acknowledging God in all his ways. 



70 MEMOIR OF 

* 
sinners, to be worse than the evil spirits, and thought that the 
lowest place in hell was my due. =J^ * * * I felt the most ar- 
dent desire for God's glory, and was willing to be a stepping- 
stone, or any thing, however mean, to promote it. To be a 
fellow-laborer with Christ, in the glorious work of bringing 
souls to him, seemed to be the most delightful and honorable of 
all offices ; and in this service I felt willing to spend and be 
spent ; to suffer pain, contempt, and death itself Felt a most 
intense love for Christ's people, and was willing to be below 
them all. 

" Nov, 26. As soon as I awoke, felt my soul go forth in 
longing after more holiness, and promised myself much com- 
fort in prayer. But my Lord withdrew himself, and I could 
do nothing. Felt convinced that it was a dispensation of love 
for my good. 

'' Nov. 29. Never was enabled to plead with such earnest- 
ness and submission before. My mouth was filled with argu- 
ments, and I seemed to have both my Saviour and the blessed 
Spirit go with me, and plead for me at the throne of grace. 
Was favored with a clear view of my Saviour's beauty and ho- 
liness, and of the scheme of salvation by him. What a glori- 
ous design, and how worthy of its Author ! 

^^ Dec. 1. Favored with an uncommon spirit of prayer. 
Saw that, as a member of Christ, 1 might pray with as much 
certainty of being heard as Christ himself Was enabled to 
plead his merits, sufferings, death, God's gracious promises, 
what he has already done for me, the operations of his own 
Spirit, and his own conduct in hearing others — as reasons 
why he should hear me. * * * Was graciously assisted in 
pleading, till I received an answer of peace. Was most 
sweetly melted with a view of the love of the blessed Trinity, 
displayed in the work of redemption, and the vile, ungrateful 
returns I had made. 

" Dec. 5. Felt a full persuasion, that my present dark, 
comfortless state is only designed for good, to teach me hu- 
mility, dependence, and weanedness from the world : and if it 
has this effect, I welcome it with joy. 

" Dec. 6. All my proud and selfish feelings seemed to be 
annihilated. I saw and rejoiced, that Jesus had no need of 
me, and that he would be praised by others, if not by me, to 
all eternity ; and, provided he could be glorified, I cared 
not how, or by whom. How sweet to have pride and self 
subdued ! 

*' Dec. 9. Determined to spend this day in fasting and 
prayer fo: myself and the advancement of religion in this 



EDWARD PAYSON. 71 

place. Had great and special assistance last evening, and 
now, in pleading for the outpouring of the Spirit here, and for 
help in the duties before me. After thinking over my mani- 
fold transgressions, my sins against light and love, and confess- 
ing them, — I attempted to plead my Saviour's death and 
righteousness, for pardon and reconciliation. I could not ob- 
tain it, but was for three hours in great perplexity and distress, 
and was more than once on the point of giving up in despair. 
However, I was enabled to continue reading the Scriptures 
and praying till afternoon, when the cloud dispersed, and my 
Saviour shone out brighter than ever before. How did my 
soul rejoice, and plead for sanctifying grace ! Was exhaust- 
ed and worn out, but continued praying, or trying to pray, 
till night. 

^* Dec. 16. Was enabled to realize, for the first time in 
my life, what Christ sufiered, and for what a wretch he suffer- 
ed. Was so overwhelmed with the view, that I could not, for 
some time, shed .a tear. O how hateful did sin appear ! 

" Dec. 17. Was much assisted in writing on Christ's 
passion. 

*^ Jan. 4, 1807. Was favored with a spirit of prayer be- 
yond all my former experience. I was in great agony, and 
wrestled both for myself and others with great power, God 
seemed to bow the heavens and come down, and open all his 
treasures, bidding me take what I would. 

*' Jan. 6. Was not favored w^ith that sweet sense of pardon, 
which I usually find on occasions of fasting : but I had a 
quiet, peaceful, resigned frame, and felt none of those repin- 
ing thoughts, which the absence of sensible comforts is apt to 
excite. 

** Jan. 20. Was amazingly assisted in prayer for myself, 
parents, friends, and a revival of religion. 

^^ Jan. 21. Was favored with the clearest views of the glo- 
ry of heaven, as consisting in holiness, that I ever had. 

" Jan. 29. Never felt such longings after God, or such a 
desire to depart and be with Christ. My soul thirsted for 
more full communion with my God and Saviour. I do not 
now feel satisfied, as I used to, with the manifestations of the 
divine presence, but still feel hungry and craving. 

*^ Feh. 2. Was amazingly given up to wandering imagina- 
tions. If I attempted to pray, in a moment my thoughts were 
in the ends of the earth. If I attempted to read the Bible, eve- 
ry verse, almost, afforded ground of doubt and cavilling. This 
fully convinced me that Satan is able to make me doubt even 
the existence of God. 



72 MEMOIR OF 

" Feb, 18. Was enabled to lie at Jesus' feet, and to wash 
them with the tears of contrition. No pleasure I have ever 
found in religion superior to this. 

" Feb. 20. Resolved to spend the day in fasting, and had 
considerable assistance. Had clearer views of the majesty, 
purity, and holiness of God, than usual, and this made me ab- 
hor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. 

" Feb. 28. Was favored with great enlargement in prayer. 
Seemed to be carried out of myself into the presence of 
God. 

^^ March % Seem to be declining; am less grateful, less 
fervent, than I was, and have less tenderness of spirit. Yet I 
am less apt to think much of myself than I was, and hope I 
am growing in humility. This seems the most lovely grace, 
and most becoming sinners. 

" March 7. Were it not for the promised help of my Sa- 
viour, I would think no more of preaching, but rather labor 
for daily bread. 

" March 12. Never appeared so exceedingly vile and 
loathsome to myself as I did this day. It seemed as if I could 
not endure to be near myself No words could express any 
thing like the sense I had of my unworthiness. It seemed as 
if I could not, for shame, ask God to save me. I felt like 
sinking into the dust, in the idea that his pure eye was fixed 
upon me, and that saints and angels saw how vile I was. 

** March 15. Sabbath. Rose very early, and was favored 
with sweet fervency and communion with God in prayer. 
Went to bed, and lay till morning. Enjoyed great liberty in 
prayer several times before meeting. 

'' March 17. Was favored with a peculiar experience this 
morning. I thought I knew that I could never heal myself 
before ; but I was made to know it in a different manner now. 
I saw, with most convincing clearness, that neither I, nor all 
created beings, could do the least thing towards delivering me 
from my sinfiil nature. I saw that I depended entirely on the 
free mercy of God ; and that there was no reason but his own 
good pleasure, why he should ever afford me that assistance. 
Felt, for the first time in my life, what the apostle meant by 
** groanings which cannot be uttered ;" and my desires afler 
holiness were so strong, that I was in bodily pain, and my 
soul seemed as if it would burst the bands which confined it 
to the body. 

" March 19. [At the close of a day of fasting and prayer.] 
1 find that, even when the spirit is willing, the flesh is 
weak. No days are so fatiguing as those which are spent in 



EDWARD PAi^SON. 73 

fervent and continual exercises of religion. It will not he so 
in heaven. 

" March 26. Spent the day in fasting and prayer. Was 
favored with near access to my heavenly Father, and a real- 
izing sense of his perfections. O how sweetly was I enabled 
to praise and admire his love and goodness in his works ! 

^^ March 31. Spent this day fasting, but not in prayer ; foi 
I could not put up a single petition. Was entirely deserted, 
and was ready to say, Surely it is in vain to seek after God 
I could not see that I had advanced one step in holiness, and 
was ready to think I never should ; yet could think of nothing 
else worth pursuing or living for. Doubted whether it were 
possible that I should know any thing of true religion, and yet 
be so entirely barren. 

" April 7. In fasting and prayer, was favored with much 
of a spirit of supplication. I now seem to be lifted above 
those discouraging, desponding doubts, which have for some 
time clogged my soul. No good comes of doubting, or of 

BROODING OVER OUR SINS. 

^^ April 14. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. Was 
wholly deserted, except that I saw more of my natural deprav- 
ity, and the consequent pollution of all my duties, than ever 
before. Saw more, too, of the glory and greatness of the work 
of redemption, than I had previously. 

*' Ajpril 22. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. At first 
was stupid ; but soon God was pleased to lift up the light of 
his countenance upon me, and visit me with his free Spirit. 

how infinitely glorious and lovely did God in Christ appear ! 

1 saw, I felt, that God was mine, and I his, and was unspeak- 
ably happy. Now, if ever, I enjoyed communion with God. 
He shone sweetly upon me, and I reflected back his beams in 
fervent, admiring, adoring love. Had a most ravishing view 
of the glories of heaven, of the ineffable delight with which 
the Lord Jesus beholds the happiness which he has purchased 
with his own blood." 

7 



74 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER V. 

His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry. 

The time now drew near, when Mr. Payson was to receive 
license, agreeably to Congregational usage, to preach the gos- 
pel. His spirituality appears to have increased as that inter- 
esting era of his life approached. Most sensibly did he feel 
that he * was no longer his own, but bought with a price,' and 
' called by grace to serve God in the gospel of his Son.' * The 
world was crucified to him, and he to the world.' His piety 
was distinguished by more frequent acts of self-dedication to 
God, — not by short ejaculations and a general surrender mere- 
ly, but with great deliberation, attended by a minute survey of 
the relations of the creature to the Creator, and of the obliga- 
tions recognised and assumed by such a consecration. Hap- 
pily, one specimen of the manner in which he gave himself up 
is preserved ; and, though it describes the secret dealings of 
the soul Vvdth its God, it is hoped that it will not be desecrated 
by being brought out to the light. If, however, the reader 
never felt the awe which is created by a consciousness of the 
divine presence — if he never experienced the emotions of an 
ancient pilgrim, when, preparing for a similar transaction, he 
exclaimed, '^ How dreadful is this place!" — he is urgently re- 
quested to pause. If he is conscious of any other feelings than 
those of profound solemnity, let him leave this chapter unread. 
In it he will find nothing with which a mind given to levity, 
or vanity, or pride, can possibly sympathize. If he ventures to 
proceed, he will be met at the threshold, if not by ' a drawn 
sword in the hand of the Captain of the Lord's host,' by that 
which is scarcely less appalling to an earthly mind, and which 
will render almost equally appropriate the order addressed to 
Israel's leader — '' Loose thy shoe from off thy foot ; for the 
place whereon thou standest is holy." 

''May 1, 1807. Having set apart this day for fasting and 
prayer, preparatory to the celebration of the Lord's supper, I 
rose early, and sought the divine presence and blessing, in which 
I was favored with fervency and freedom. My petition was, 
that I might be enabled to see my own character, contrasted 



EDWARD PAYSON. 75 

with the purity of God, and his holy, just, and good law ; that 
I might be assisted in renewing covenant with God, and in 
giving myself up to him, and that I might be favored with 
ministerial qualifications. After this, I drew up the following 

CONFESSION AND FORM OF COVENANT. 

" O thou High and Holy One, that inhabitest eternity, whose 
name alone is Jehovah, — w^ho art the one, great, eternal, ever- 
blessed God, before whom angels bow and devils tremble, and 
in whose sight all the nations of the earth are less than nothing 
and vanity ! — wilt thou graciously condescend, in thy sove- 
reign and infinite goodness, to look down from thy throne of 
glory on me, the most unworthy of thy creatures, a poor, weak, 
sinful, vile, and polluted wretch, to behold me with mercy and 
compassion, and permit me, lying prostrate in the dust before 
thee, to address thee as my God, my Father, my Creator, my 
Benefactor, my Friend and Redeemer ! 

" O Lord, I would come with a heart broken and contrite 
for sin, acknowledging myself unworthy of the least of all thy 
mercies, and deservinor nothing^ at thine hand but everlastino" 
banishment from thee and happiness. Encoaraged by thine 
own gracious promises, I would come, and, with humble con- 
fidence, take hold on the hope set before me, even thine ever- 
lasting covenant, which is ordered in all things and sure. But, 
O God, what am I, that I should be called thy son, that I 
should call thee my Father, or that thou shouldst enter into 
covenant with me ? I blush, and am ashamed even to lift up 
my face unto thee, O my Father ; for I have sinned against 
thee, and am exceeding vile ; vile beyond what language can 
describe or thought conceive. My iniquities are gone over my 
head ; they are increased even to the heavens ; they are infi- 
nite in number, in degree and aggravation, and can be equal- 
led only by thy mercies, which have been new every moment. 
Thou, O God, hast given me life, and dost still preserve me 
in existence. Thou hast given me faculties which render me 
capable of knowing, serving, loving, worshipping, and enjoy- 
ing thee. Thou hast placed me in this Christian land, and 
given me the knowledge of thee, myself, and my duty, while 
thousands of my fellow-creatures are left in darkness. Thou 
hast placed me in that situation in life which is most favorable 
to virtue, contentment, and happiness, and hast given me pa- 
rents tender and affectionate, who early devoted me to thee, 
and taught me to lisp thy name, and to know thy precepts. 
Through their means thou hast given me opportunities of im- 



76 MEMOIR OF 

proving those faculties I have received from thee, and thus 
rendering myself more fit to serve thee. But above all, O my 
God, thou hast given me an interest in thy Son, and in all the 
blessings he has purchased. Thou hast given me the Spirit 
of adoption, vi^hereby I am enabled to cry, Abba, Father. 
Thou hast given me thy precious grace in this world, as an 
earnest of glory in the next. Thou hast also loaded me with 
daily and hourly mercies, more than I can number. Thou 
hast kept me with more than parental care. Thou hast pre- 
served me in sickness, protected me from dangers, shielded 
me while awake, watched over me in sleep, supported me in 
trials, strengthened me in weakness, succored me in tempta- 
tions, comforted me in afflictions, and defended me against 
mighty and numberless enemies. Thou hast overwhelmed 
me with thy mercies ; my cup runneth over. Thy goodness 
and thy mercy have followed me all the days of my life. 

^' Yet against all this goodness I have rebelled, have reward- 
ed thee evil for good ; thy mercies have only aggravated my 
guilt. O, my God, what have I done ! What madness, what 
obstinacy, what ingratitude has possessed me 1 My sins have 
run parallel with thy mercies. I have struck and wounded 
the hand that made me, fed me, preserved me. I have wast- 
ed in sin and folly the life thou gavest me. . I have perverted 
those faculties I received from thy goodness in dishonoring 
thee, and in disobeying thy commands. I was shapen in sin, 
and brought forth in iniquity. My understanding is darkened 
and alienated from the truth ; my will is stubborn and per- 
verse ; my affections are corrupted and depraved ; and every 
imagination of the thoughts of my heart has been evil, only 
and continually evil. My carnal mind has been enmity against 
thee, and has not been in subjection to thy righteous and holy 
law. From this corrupt and bitter fountain have proceeded 
innumerable bitter, polluting streams. Though I was early 
taught thy will, I neglected to perform it. I have broken all 
thy commands, times without number. My words, thoughts, 
and actions, have been sinful. I have gone astray from my 
youth up. 

'' And even after thou didst take pity upon me, when I was 
cast out, polluted, to perish in my blood — after thou didst re- 
ceive me, a poor, wretched prodigal, and didst cause thy won- 
drous goodness and mercy to pass before me, I have still con- 
tinued to weary thee with my sins, and cause thee to serve 
with mine iniquities. I have broken that solemn covenant by 
which I bound myself to be thine. I have indulged an evil 
heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God, and have 



EDWARD PAYSON. 77 

in all things dealt very treacherously. How often have I mock- 
ed thee with solemn words on a thoughtless tongue ! How 
have I neglected thy word, profaned thine ordinances, broken 
thy law, and resisted thy grace ! How little of a filial temper 
have I felt to thee, my Father ! How little gratitude to thee, 
blessed Saviour ! How often have I grieved thee, O Holy 
Spirit, by whom I am sealed to the day of redemption ! When 
thou liftest upon me the light of thy countenance, I grow proud, 
carnal, and secure ; and when thou leavest me in darkness, 
when my own foolishness perverteth my way, then my proud 
heart fretteth against thee, the Lord. All my duties are pollu- 
ted with innumerable sins, and are as a leprous garment before 
thee. And, after all thou hast done for me, I am still encom- 
passed about with innumerable evils. Pride, unbelief, selfish- 
ness, lust, anger, hatred, malice, revenge, bitterness, slothful- 
ness, vanity, love of the w^orld, ignorance, formality, hypocrisy, 
and, with all these, self-conceit, are still the inhabitants, if not 
the lords, of my heart. And, as thou, O Lord, knowest, these 
are not the ten thousandth part of my sins and iniquities ; so 
that I am the chief of sinners, and the least of all saints. * * * 

*' O wretched man that I am ! Who shall deliver me fi*om 
this body of death ? Vain, O Lord, thou knovv^est, are my 
endeavors, and vain is the help of man. I have ruined myself, 
and in thee alone, and in thy mercy, is my hope. 

" To this mercy, against which I have so often sinned, would 
I flee for refuge, and, laying my hand on my mouth, and my 
mouth in the dust, cry. Unclean ! unclean ! True, Lord, I 
have sinned ; but with thee there is mercy, with thee there is 
plenteous redemption. Thou, thou, art he, who Hottest out 
our iniquities for thine own sake, and wilt not remember our 
sins against us. The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, 
and to this would I flee for refuge. In him do I put my trust ; 
O let me not be ashamed. Let me plead before thee the mer- 
its of thy Son, and put thee in mind of thy gracious promises, 
that I may be justified. In his name, and as an unworthy 
member of his mystical body, would I come, and renew before 
thee that covenant which I have broken, and bind myself to 
be thine forever. And do thou, for his sake, O God, assist 
me ; for in thee is my strength. 

" Relying on this strength for support, and confessing myself 
guilty of all these and innumerable other offences, and that I 
deserve, in justice, nothing but the lowest hell, and renouncing 
the destructive ways of sin, — I do, with my whole heart and 
soul, in a most serious, solemn, and deliberate manner, choose 
and take *he Lord Jehovah to be my God and Father, cheer- 



7 



# 



78 MEMOIR OF 

fully and joyfully renewing all my past engagements ; and, in 
humble dependence on his grace, I engage to fear him, and 
cleave to him in love. And I do, most freely, give up myself, 
my interests, for time and for eternity, my soul and body, my 
friends and possessions, and all that I have, to his wise, just, 
and sovereign disposal. Especially do I devote myself to him 
in the service of the ministry, beseeching him to place me in 
that situation in which I shall most glorify him. And wilt 
thou, O most gracious and condescending God, accept this 
offering of thy creature, who can give thee nothing but what 
he has first received. 

" With equal joy and readiness, and in the same serious 
and solemn manner, do I choose and embrace the Lord Jesus 
Christ to be my only Saviour. I take him in all his offices — 
as my Priest, to make atonement for all my offences — as my 
Prophet, to guide, teach, enlighten and instruct me — as my 
King, to rule in and reign over me. I take him as the great 
Head of influences, from whom alone I can receive all needed 
supplies of grace and assistance. 

*'I do also take the Holy Spirit of all grace and consolation 
to be my Sanctifier, and promise not to grieve him, or to slight 
his warnings. 

*^ And, O my God, what shall I more say? what can I ask, 
since I am thine, and thou art mine ; mine, for time ; mine, 
for eternity ? O my God, I want nothing but to be wholly 
thine. I would plead thy promise for a new heart and a right 
spirit. O write this covenant on my heart, and put thy fear 
there, that I may not depart from thee. May I be made an 
able, faithful, and successful minister of the New Testament. 
May the life and concerns, which I have now devoted to thee, 
be employed in thy service ; and may I, at length, be brought 
to the full enjoyment of thee in glory, through infinite riches of 
redeeming love. 

^^ As a testimony of my sincere and hearty consent to this 
covenant, of my hope and desire to receive the blessings of it, 
and as a swift witness against me if I depart from it ; I do now, 
before God and the holy angels, subscribe with my hand unto 
^^^ Lord. Edward Payson. 

** And may this covenant be ratified in heaven. And do thou 
remember, O my soul, that the vows of God are upon thee. 

"Haviftg drawn up the above covenant, I spread it before 
the Lord ; and after confession of sins, and seeking pardon 
through the blood of Christ, I did solemnly accept it before 



EDWARD PAYSON. 79 

him, as my free act and deed ; and embraced Christ in it, as 
the only ground of my hope. I then pleaded for all covenant- 
ed blessings, and was favored with great fervency and enlarge- 
ment in prayer. An indisposition, which attended me through 
the day, rendered it less profitable than usual ; yet I have 
abundant reason to bless God for the measure of assistance I 
received. I felt the most longing, intense, and insatiable de- 
sires after holiness, and to be employed in promoting the divine 
glory. The world, with its applause, seemed nothing in com- 
parison with the approbation of God. Existence seemed worth 
possessing only as it could be employed in praising him." 

Before the reader sits in judgrhent on the transaction now 
recorded, and especially on the manner in which it was con- 
ducted ; before he censures the vows, by which the covenan- 
ter bound his soul, as too strong, the surrender as too complete 
and exclusive, or the terms in which it is done as extravagant, 
— let him inquire of his own heart, whether he has duly con- 
sidered the claims of the great Jehovah, and treated these 
claims as a real servant of God, a true disciple of Christ. Even 
under his ''easy yoke," the terms of the relation are, 'Except 
ye forsake all, ye cannot be my disciples.' And if "no man 
can serve two masters," we have no alternative, but to give up 
ourselves to God without reserve, or be disowned by* him. How- 
ever solemn the act, that can be neither unreasonable nor im- 
proper, which our Father in heaven requires. When we enter 
upon an enumeration of all that is comprised in dedicating 
one's self to God, we may well be filled with aw^e, and trem- 
blingly alive to the danger of failing to perform our vows ; but 
to withhold the offering, savors more of unbelief, of a self- 
ish and rebellious heart, than of a wise caution^ or a filial 
temper. 

There is a class of persons, to whom the confessions in the 
above instrument will appear revolting, and by whom they will 
be stigmatized as religious affectation. He speaks of his sins as 
'infinite in number, degree, and aggravation.' The Christian, 
whose ' sins have been set in order before him,' sees no hyper- 
bole in such language ; and if it should meet the eyes of others, 
they are referred for an explanation, so far as it can be appre- 
ciated without Christian experience, to the seventh sermon in 
the posthumous volume of his discourses. Even ' the natural 
man' may there ' discern' enough to acquit the author of incon- 
sistency ; and it is no more than an act of common justice to 
allow him to be his own expositor. 

In this and other places, he descends to specifications of 
sins in terms which may be thought applicable to none but a 



80 MEMOIR OF 

monster of wickedness ; and yet they are the judgment passed 
on himself by a man always and universally respected for the 
correctness and purity of his morals. His * pride' never look- 
ed with disdain upon the meanest fellow-creature ; his * malice' 
and ' revenge' never inflicted actual injury ; and of any out- 
breakings of the baser and more degrading passions, he 
stands unindicted by all except himself Nor were these hu- 
miliating confessions, this extraordinary self-abasement, made 
to attract notice, and give himself importance in the eyes of 
others — one of the very worst and most odious forms in which 
pride operates — for to them no mortal was ever privy. They 
were not known to a fellow-creature, till since he dropped the 
clods of mortality. They describe what he appeared to him- 
self to be in the immediate presence of the perfectly holy and 
heart-searching God. Still, many will repeat the question — If 
he alludes to no crimes, with which every man might not with 
equal propriety charge himself, whence the justice or truth of 
the charges ? Here again he shall be his own interpreter. Let 
those who are oppressed with this difiiculty carefully read his ser- 
mon, entitled, Sins estimated hy the Light of Heaven, and they 
will find a full and satisfactory solution. This, and the sermon 
just alluded to, will furnish a key to the true import of much 
of the language which he employs, in describing the darker 
and more distressing parts of his experience. 

The effects of his severe regimen and night vigils on his 
health, had already begun to appear, and were somewhat 
aggravated by a bodily injury which he received about this 
time. The circumstances are said to have been these : He 
had accompanied his father and another clergyman to an ordi- 
nation. On their return, as he was feasting his mind with 
such meditations as the scenery and the occasion suggested, 
they out-rode him. His horse, being left principally to his 
own guidance, by suddenly leaping a brook, brought his rider 
to the ground, whose right shoulder was dislocated by the 
shock. A partial faintness succeeded, from Avhich he was re- 
covered by bathing his temples with water fi'om the stream. 
Attempting, in this disabled condition, to regain the saddle, 
by leaping from a neighboring fence, he was precipitated 
over the horse to the ground, and the bone was restored 
to its place by the fall. In after life, it was often displaced, 
and sometimes in circumstances not a little embarrassing and 
distressing ; and for many months before his death, and even 
before he ceased to appear in the pulpit, that arm hung use- 
less by his side. From this time, the state of his health is the 
subject of frequent allusion, as may be seen from his journal, 
parts of which, for several successive days, are subjoined, bring- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 81 

ing down his history to the date of his license to preach the 
gospel : — 

" May 2. Was exceedingly weak through the day, both in 
body and mind, and was enabled to do little or nothing. Could 
only wish and sigh. 

'^ May S. Sacrament. Had considerable flow of affections, 
but seemed to want clearness and spirituality. In the after- 
noon, was more dead and trifling. So far as I can judge fi*om 
my feelings, have got little good by this opportunity. Felt 
deeply oppressed with guilt after meeting, but could not mourn, 
over my sin, as I would fain have done, nor could I obtain any 
sense of divine love. But after a short time, my compassionate 
Saviour was pleased to melt my soul with a look of love, and 
I felt sweetly humbled and contrite for sin. Although I had 
carelessly let down my watch, yet in the evening he was pleas- 
ed to return, and give me the sweetest humbling season I ever 
enjoyed. I never felt so vile, so insignificant, so like nothing, 
so emptied of self And when I was thus empty, he was pleas- 
ed to fill me with himself; so that I was burnt up* with most 
intense love, and pantings after holiness. Never before had I 
such faith and fervency in prayer. I was as happy as nature 
could sustain, and could only say — Blessed Jesus ! this is thy 
work. See my happiness. It proceeds from thee ! This is 
the fruit of thy travail of soul. Renewed my covenant, and 
gave up my whole soul, with all its powers, to God as my Fa- 
ther, Christ as my Saviour, and the Holy Spirit as my Sancti- 
fier. Had another sweet season in prayer ; but was assaulted 
by spiritual pride. I see frowns are necessary for me. 

" 3Iai/ 4. Was less favored this morning than last even- 
ing; but had some assistance. Was aided in writing, but 
greatly oppressed with pride and vanity, which made their at- 
tacks upon me in inexpressible shapes, while I could do nothing. 

''May 5. Spent this day in the woods, in fasting and 
prayer, with a view to obtain mortification of my abominable 
pride and selfishness. Was favored with much fervency and 
enlargement the former part of the day, but was afterward 
much deserted ; seemed to make no advances in holiness ; to 
be of no advantage to the world, and unfit to live. 

* This expression may at first glance strike the reader as extravagant ; and 
yet, by consulting John ii. 17, he will find an almost exact parallel — The zeal 
of thine house Jiath eaten me up. So inwrought into Mr. Payson's mental habits 
were the Scriptures of truth, that he thought, breathed, and spoke, in their man- 
ner Those, however, will, or ou^ht to be, the last to complain, who can re- 
solve all the characteristic expressions and peculiar doctrines of the Bible into 
" strong eastern figures." 



83 MEMOIR OF 

" May 6. Had some freedom in prayer. Felt very feeble, 
and unfit for study ; but, praying that Christ's strength might 
be made perfect in my weakness, I was helped to write more 
than usual. 

" May 7. Out of order both in body and mind. Did little 
in my study, and had little freedom in prayer. 

" May 8. Had some life and fervency this morning ; but 
was exercised with wandering thoughts. Could do little all 
day. 

*' May 9. Was much perplexed with some business with 
* * * *, so that I could neither read nor pray, any more than I 
could remove a mountain. This was made useful to me. I 
saw by it the weakness of my graces, and learned to judge 
more favorably of those Christians who are exposed to the 
temptations of the world. It showed me also my need of di- 
vine help more clearly than ever. Were I exposed to the 
same temptations, I should lose all sense of divine things with- 
out greater supports than I ever had. 

" May 10. Was very unwell, and could neither eat, read, 
nor pray. Was excessively melancholy. 

'^ 3Iay 11. Was still more oppressed with melancholy, and 
felt even more miserable. ********* Was ashamed 
of my selfishness and ingratitude in despising the blessings God 
had given me. Remained very wretched, and unable to do 
any thing. In the evening, had some relief 

" May 12. Was, if possible, still more gloomy and depress- 
ed than yesterday. Seemed unfit to preach, and even to do 
any thing. Could only wander about from place to place, 
seeking rest, and finding none. In the evening, a person ar- 
rived from Marlborough, inviting me to come and preach four 
Sabbaths. After putting up a short but sincere petition, that 
I might not be left to my own guidance, and asking the ad- 
vice of my father, I promised to go. Retired, and cast my- 
self upon the Lord for support, with a deep sense of my own 
utter insufl[iciency. 

''May 13. Having set apart this day for fasting and 
prayer, with reference to entering on the work of the ministry, 
I sought the divine presence and blessing, in which I was 
much assisted. Renewed covenant with God, and gave my- 
self up to him for the work of the ministry. Was helped to 
plead with far more earnestness than ever before, and, indeed, 
with as much as my nature could support, or was capable of, 
and this repeatedly during the day. 

" May 14. Was very unwell, and apprehensive of a nervous 
fever. Could not read the most amusing books without wea- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 83 

riness and distraction ; and my body was so weak, that I could 
exercise but very little. Yet, by divine goodness, was preserv- 
ed in a quiet, submissive frame. 

'* May 15. Was better, and had some sweetness in secret 
devotion. Went to see an old man who has been converted 
in his old age. Found him full of affection, and possessing 
remarkably clear views of God and divine things, though in 
other respects weak and illiterate. Was somewhat refreshed 
with his conversation. — P. M. Forced to make a visit, but help- 
ed to introduce religious conversation. 

" May 16. Felt very lifeless in the morning ; but in se- 
cret prayer, it pleased God to enliven me. In the evening, was 
favored with equal, or greater degrees of fervency. My soul 
was suddenly humbled and broken for sin. I seemed to be 
much the least of all saints ; and my very soul panted for God 
and holiness, as the hunted hart for the water-brook. Blessed 
be God for this day. 

''May 17. Sabbath, A. M. Very dull and lifeless ; but in 
secret prayer, the cloud was removed, and I found unspeak- 
able delight in drawing near to God, and casting myself 
upon him. Christ appeared inconceivably precious, and I 
longed, with most intense desire, to devote myself to him, 
and to be like him. I could not but rejoice with joy unspeaka- 
ble and full of glory, to think that God in Christ was, and 
would be, infinitely and unchangeably glorious and happy. 
In Christ I beheld such fulness and sufficiency, that all my 
late tormenting fears respecting being qualified for the minis- 
try, and assisted in it, vanished. In the evening, was over- 
whelmed with a view of my remaining corruptions, and espe- 
cially of my pride ; so that I was in a perfect agony, and could 
scarcely support it. I was just ready to despair, and give up 
all future striving as vain ; but I fled to Christ, and poured out 
all my sorrows into his bosom, and he graciously pitied me, 
and strengthened me with might in my soul. I found un- 
speakable relief in telling him all my sorrows and difficulties. 
O, he is wonderfully, inconceivably gracious ! 

" May 18. Had very little freedom or fervency. Was 
perplexed with the scene before me, and could effect but 
little. 

'' May 19. Went with my father to the Association, for the 
purpose of receiving their approbation to preach the gospel. 
Was exceedingly fatigued. 

" May 20. Was examined and approbated. Was so weak 
that I could scarcely stand; but was helped in some meas- 
ure.'' 



84 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER VI. 

His first efforts as a preacher — His religious character fur^ 

ther developed. 

Having been regularly introduced and recommended to the 
churches as a preacher, Mr. Payson proceeded, the next day, 
to Marlborough, to fulfil his engagement with the people of 
that place. Change of situation, however, did not interrupt 
his communion with God. On the way, his mind was en- 
grossed with divine contemplations, and with the duties and 
responsibilities of that new relation in which he now stood to 
the church and the world. During the time that intervened 
between this and the Sabbath, he was not without misgivings; 
as he complains of being ^ almost discouraged and overwhelm- 
ed, in view of his unfitness for the ministry ;' and once, of even 

* wishing himself any thing rather than a minister.' He 

* could hardly conceive it possible, that one so inconceivably 
vile should be a child of God ; but was nevertheless helped to 
cast his burden on the Almighty, and to agonize in prayer to 
be delivered from this body of death.' The Saturday next pre- 
ceding his first appearance in the pulpit, he had ' resolved to 
spend in fasting and prayer ;' but when the day arrived, his 

* health would not permit.' The day on which a man first 
stands forth as the ambassador of God to his fellow men, is an 
important era in his life ; but it had been anticipated with so 
much concern by Mr. Payson, that it seems to have been dis- 
tinguished by no extraordinary strength of feelings. His own 
account of them is thus expressed : — 

" May 24. Sab. Was favored with considerable fervency, 
life, and sense of dependence, this morning. Endeavored to 
cast myself wholly on the Lord for support. Felt thankfiil it 
was rainy. There were very few people at meeting ; and I 
just got through without stopping. Spoke too fast and too 
low. Was a good deal depressed after meeting. In the after- 
noon, did a little better, but still bad enough. Was very much 
fatigued, and almost in a fever ; but enjoyed some comfort 
after meeting." 



EDWARtJ PAYSON. 85 

His public engagements, important as he felt them to be, 
did not divert his attention from his own heart. On the con- 
trary, personal religion continued to be a primary concern. 
Of this, as well as of the varied nature of his spiritual exer- 
cises, there is an accumulation of evidence : — 

*^ May 28. Enjoyed a very unusual degree of sweetness 
and fervor this morning. O, how precious did Christ appear 
to my soul ! How 1 longed to be a pure flame of fire in his 
service, to be all zeal, and love, and fervor ! With what grat- 
itude did I look up to him, saying. Blessed Saviour, behold 
how happy I am ! and to thee all my happiness is owing. But 
for thee, I should now have been lifting up my eyes, being in 
torments. O, what shall I render unto the Lord for all his ben- 
efits ! In the evening, in secret prayer, my soul was filled with 
unutterable lonsjing^s and insatiable thirstincrs after God in 
Christ. I earnestly desired that all mankind might be as hap- 
py as I was ; that they should all see what a glorious, amiable 
being God is, that they might love and praise him. Retired 
to rest with a clear, sweet, realizing apprehension of my Sa- 
viour's presence, and dropped to sleep in this frame. 

"ilia?/ 29. Enjoyed much of the same spiritual sweetness 
which I felt last evening ; but was much exercised on account 
of pride, or rather love of applause, which was excited by 
some approbation which, I lately heard, w^as bestowed on my 
preaching. Strove w^ith all my might to be delivered from 
this hateful temper, and cried for some time to my Supporter 
and Strength ever to grant me his grace to help. Recalled to 
mind that I had nothing which I had not received ; that I 
had most wickedly and shamefully wasted, and neglected to 
improve my talents; that applause was commonly ill bestow- 
ed ; and that the praise of men was of no worth compared 
with the approbation of God. By the divine blessing on these 
and other similar considerations, I was helped to overcome it. 
In the evening, was much assisted in prayer. Had a greater 
spirit of wrestling for the conversion of sinners than I ever 
had before." 

He is often ' discouraged by the little which he accomplishes, 
and the selfish motives with which that little is defiled.* 
He is assailed by ' strong temptations, which drive him to his 
knees for assistance ;' and by ' frequent recurrence of the 
same temptation,' which costs him long and severe ^ struggles, 
before^ he is favored with complete victory.' This is followed 
8 



g(5 MEMOIR OF 

by * increased confidence in God, as able to supply all his 
need, and, at the same time, with a more humbling sense of 
his unfitness for the ministry.' And even when he is in a 
* lively frame' during several successive days, he is still * aston- 
ished at his slow progress in religion.' Again, ' pride and un- 
belief begin to work, and render him miserable,' and for de- 
fence against them he resorts ^ to prayer, pleading various 
arguments for the space of an iiour, before he is able to re- 
press pride and repining thoughts.' Nor is this the extremity 
of his conflict : he has such ' a dreadful view of his heart, that 
he could scarcely support the sight of himself; while this, * in- 
stead of hunihling, only distressed him, so that he is at last 
obliged to desist, without, as' he can perceive, any answer at 
all.' The next day, he can cry, '' Abba, Father !" with all the 
confidence of filial love : — 

'^ June 6. Had many sweet seasons of prayer during the 
day, and was assisted in pleading for the presence of the Di- 
vine Spirit to-morrow. 

''June 8. Had great earnestness in secret prayer. Long- 
ed to be v/holly devoted to God. Thought if I could, from 
this time, do every thing for his glory, I would willingly resign 
every worldly comfort, and be the most despised object on the 
face of the earth. Went to a funeral, and was assisted in 
speaking to the mourners, and in prayer. 

^' June 9. Renewed covenant, and took God for my God, 
and gave myself up to him in sincerity, and with more joy than 
I ever did before. In the afternoon, was favored with another 
most sweet and refreshing season in secret prayer. Have sel- 
dom, if ever, felt more fervency, more hatred of sin, and more 
longing desires after holiness. 

'' June 10. The family being mostly absent to-day, I re- 
solved to spend it in fasting and prayer, for a supply of minis- 
terial gifts and Christian graces ; especially that I might be 
made an able, faithful, and successful minister of the New 
Testament. Was assisted, both last night and this morning, 
in seeking the divine presence and blessing. God graciously 
heard and answered me. I was favored with great and unu- 
sual fervency and perseverance in prayer, was enabled to con- 
fess and mourn over my sins, and to mourn because I could 
not mourn more, and was assisted in renewing covenant with 
God, and in giving myself up to be his forever. Was entirely 
exhausted, and worn out in body and mind, before night, by 
the strong and unutterable desires I felt after personal holiness 



EDWARD PAYSON. 87 

and the success of Christ's kingdom. On the whole, it has 
been a very profitable day to my soul, as, by divine goodness, 
most, if not all, my fast days have been." 

Four days after this, he experienced a most melancholy re- 
verse, viewing himself as the ' most vile, loathsome, worthless 
wretch in existence ; could only throw himself prostrate, and 
utter the cry of the publican — '' God, be merciful to me a sin- 
ner." ' The cause of this distress is unintentionally indicated. 
He was " sick in body and mind." But, 

" As poison oft the force of poison quells," 

so the far more wretched condition, and still more melancholy 
prospects, of a fellow-creature, caused him to forget his own 
misery : — 

** Was called to see a sick man supposed to be dying ; he 
was a professor, aged eighty-seven. Found him something 
alarmed, but he gave no satisfactory evidence of a change. 
Stated to him his danger and the remedy, but, I fear, to little- 
purpose. Was much assisted in Drpar^Hing. JMy strength con- 
tinued, and even mcreased, though quite exhausted at the 
close. Went to see the sick man again. Found him better 
in body, but worse in mind. 

^^ June 16. Had no heart to confess my sins ; could find no 
words which would do any thing towards it. Saw no hope — 
scarcely any possibility of being either happy or useful. Tried 
all day to study, but could neither write nor read, and was 
completely discouraged. It seemed as if I must give up 
preaching. 

'^ June 17. Had some life this morning, but was harassed 
with wandering thoughts. Seemed to myself more vile than 
any other creature existing. Expected an occasion for a fu- 
neral sermon, yet could effect nothing. Seldom, if ever, spent 
a more painful day. Was ready to say. What profit shall we 
have, if we pray unto him ; for I prayed once and again, but 
found no relief In the evening, felt a little better, but then 
was ready to sink, and seemed fit for nothing but to be fuel 
for God's wrath. 

^' June 18. Suffered more of hell to-day than ever I did 
in my life. O such torment ! I wanted but little of being 
distracted; I could neither read, nor write, nor pray, nor sit 
still. 

''June 19. Rose in the same state of mind in which I lay 
down. Rode out, and felt some better, so that I found some 



eS MEMOIR OF 

liberty to pray. — P. M. Went with fear and trembling to at- 
tend a funeral. Was assisted in speaking to the mourners : 
as the multitude was very great, I was requested to pray out 
of doors ; and, though the situation was new, and I was un- 
well, I was carried through. Felt some relief from my load 
of melancholy, and was enabled to write. 

^^ Jane 20. Set apart this day for fasting and prayer. Was 
unusually assisted in pleading for increase in holiness. Felt 
such intense lono-inors and thirstino^s after more love to God 
and man, more devotedness to God's will, more zeal for his 
glory, that my body was almost overcome. Towards night, 
was enabled to plead with greater fervency than ever, so that 
I trust this will prove the most profitable day 1 have ever had. 
In the evening, was greatly assisted in prayer, so that I could 
scarcely retire to rest. 

^^ June 21. Went to meeting with raised expectations; but 
it pleased God to leave me more destitute than usual, though 
I was carried through. W hen I first came out of the pulpit, 
I was not in a very good frame ; but before I got half way 
home, was easy, satisfied, and even pleased to be despised, so 
that lioQ's will might be done. Was much more assisted in 
the afternoon. Felt thankful. 

''June 22. Very unusual degrees of fervor this morning. 
Very unwell all day, and did little in my study. In the even- 
ing, was overwhelmed with a sense of my own unworthiness. 
O how wretchedly my life passes away ! 

''June 23. As soon as I awoke this morning, my heart 
was filled with most intense love to God and Christ, so that it 
was even ready to break for the longing desires it had to go 
forth after God. I was greatly assisted in praying that I might 
be made an instrument of promoting the divine glory in the 
world. 

"June 25. Thinking it would be more convenient to keep 
my weekly fast on this day, sought the divine presence and 
blessing. Felt some warm affections towards my Saviour at 
first, but afterwards could neither realize my wants, nor pray 
to have them removed. Continued in this frame till towards 
night, and was then favored with a deep sense of my utter 
vileness. Was also enabled to plead, even with agony of soul, 
to be freed from the power of a selfish nature. Could not 
think of being any longer subject to it. 

"June 26. Much favored. Felt insatiable desires after 
holiness, and that I might spend every moment of future life 
to the divine glory. 



EDWARD PAYSON. gg 



it 



June 29. Faint, yet pursuing, is a good motto for me. 
Could do nothing in the morning, but in the afternoon gave 
up all hopes of ever doing any thing. Iniquities seemed to 
prevail against me, and I was ready to despair ; but, throwing 
myself on the Lord Jesus for help, I received strength. In 
the evening, was favored with freedom. Felt that I am much 
more habitually affected by religious subjects than I have been 
formerly ; nor are my affections less vehement, or less easily 
excited. 

''June 30. Was ready to sink and be discouraged in view 
of my exceeding sinfulness and little progress in religion. 

''July 1. Much sweetness in prayer this morning. Felt 
broken and contrite for sin. — P. M. Was greatly sunk and 
depressed. Seemed to be a poor, miserable, useless wretch. 
Went and poured forth my sorrows at the feet of my compas- 
sionate Saviour, and found relief O how gracious is our 
God! 

"July 5. Sab. Had some devout feelings and desire 
after assistance this morning, but could not get hold of any 
thing in a very realizing manner. Was very much deserted 
in prayer and sermon, and felt much distressed ; but in the 
afternoon, was favored with great enlargement, both in prayer 
and sermon. Felt a strong love for souls, and for the Lord 
Jesus. Was weak and exhausted ; but, after resting awhile, 
had a most sweet, refreshing, strengthening season in prayer. 
Never before felt so much of the spirit of the gospel. Felt 
like a pure flame of love towards God and man. Self seemed 
to be almost swallowed up. Felt willing to go any where, or 
be any thing, by which God could be glorified, and sinners 
saved. Felt my hopes of being useful in the world strength- 
ened. O how lovely, how kind, how condescendingly gra- 
cious, did my God appear ! Gave myself up to him without 
reserve, and took him for my only portion. Blessed be his 
name for this season. 

"July 6. Rode out this morning, and found much sweet- 
ness in continually lifting up my heart to God in fervent ejac- 
ulations. In the evening, had such a view of the difficulties 
in my way, and of my exceeding sinfulness, that I was ready 
to sink ; but my blessed Saviour put forth his hand and caught 
me. 

"July 7. Was harassed with wandering, gloomy, and dis- 
tressing imaginations. Could not fix upon a text, and was 
much perplexed what to do. Was overwhelmed with melan- 
choly. — P. M. Went to a funeral, and was favored with some 
8* 



90 MEMOIR OF 

assistance. Went to make a visit ; found good Christian 
people, a most kind reception, and profitable conversation/' 

Few enjoyments were more exquisitely satisfying to Mr. 
Payson, than those which he derived from religious inter- 
course. In a company of fellow-Christians, whose feelings 
would rise responsive to his own, when the themes of a Sa- 
viour's love, and of human obligation and privilege, were 
agitated, his soul seemed to revel in spiritual delights ; and 
he v/as gifted by nature and grace with the prerogative of in- 
fusing a rich portion of his own emotions into the rest of the 
favored circle. These interviews are remembered, by many 
a surviving pilgrim, as among the liveliest emblems of that 

* better country,' which he has ceased to anticipate, by actual 
fruition. It is not without a degree of shrinking, that we fol- 
low him in his sudden transition from scenes like these into 
the very depths of distress — awaking, the following morning, 

* weak, dejected, melancholy, regarding himself as useless in 
the world, born only to sin, and abuse the mercies of his Sa- 
viour and God, to disgrace the religion which he preached, 
and bring dishonor on the blessed name by which he was 
called' — in a word, ' oppressed with a load of guilt, so that 
he did not dare to retire to his chamber till driven thither, 
and even there, while prostrate in the dust, could hardly re- 
frain, in the bitterness of his soul, from praying to be released 
from the body !' In the debilitated state of his nervous sys- 
tem, and in his impaired health, the reader will see di physical 
cause for this depression. He had actually no more reason 
to doubt of his safety, than he had in his most joyful frames. 
On this point, his own judgment seems to have been sutTicient- 
ly discerning, even when its decisions could not summon to 
his aid that relief for which he sighed ; for, in immediate con- 
nexion Vv'ith these heart-rending lamentations, he says, " Other 
griefs leave the mind strength to grapple with them ; but this 
oppressive melancholy cuts the very sinews of the soul, so that 
it lies prostrate, and cannot exert itself to throw off the load." 

The next day after penning this graphic and unequalled 
description of his real malady, he is seen in the " chariot of 
Amminadib," his mind moving with an angel's speed, and 
performing the labor of many days in one : — " Was favored 
with fervency and freedom in prayer. Was greatly assisted 
in writing, through the day, and wrote nearly two sermons. 
Felt in a composed, thankful frame, all day, and felt the most 
ardent love for the Lord Jesus, and for all mankind." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 91 

In the mitigated forms of melancholy there is a soul-subdu- 
ing power, which few are able to resist. It then loses its re- 
pulsive character, and the soul of the witness is attracted and 
melted into sympathy. A mind conscious of its misery, yet 
retaining its balance, and surveying its own desolations with 
unrepining submission, presents a spectacle of moral sublimity, 
not surpassed by any thing which falls under human observa- 
tion. This constitutes one of the charms of our Saviour's char- 
acter, and much of the value of his example. In this attitude 
Mr. Payson may be seen in some of the following extracts, and 
very often in the course of his life. In the second, there is the 
expression of a ' wish,' which, if rigidly interpreted, might be 
understood as indicating a criminal dissatisfaction with life. 
But it is an involuntary wish, not incompatible with innocence 
of mind ; for it has its counterpart in the spotless Sufferer of 
the garden of Gethsemane :— 

^^ July 17. Find that the two principal things, in which I 
fail externally, are, the due improvement of time, and the 
government of my tongue. I daily lose many moments — I 
might almost say hours — in giving way too much to my feel- 
ings of gloom and discouragement; and I say many things 
which at best are unprofitable. 

^' July 18. Almost distracted; but was kept most of the 
time from repining or murmuring, only sometimes I could not 
help wishing that I were extinct ; but this was wrung from 
me by the pressure of anguish, for my soul was exceeding 
sorrowful. 

'^ July 19. Sab. Rose very early, worn out in body and 
mind ; but felt sweetly resigned to tise divine will, and was 
willing to be assisted as much, and as little, as God should see 
fit. Had some assistance ; but after meeting was excessively 
weak and depressed ; thought I would give the world if I never 
had preached, and it seemed as if I never should go into the 
pulpit again. 

** July 20. Overwhelmed, sunk, discouraged with a sense of 
sin. All efforts seemed to be in vain. Discoveries of my vile- 
ness, instead of humbling me, as might be expected, only ex- 
cited discouragement and unbelief; while the manifestations 
of God's love only make me proud and careless. My WTetched 
soul cleaves to the dust ! 

'' July 22. O, what a dreadful, what an inconceivable abyss 
of corruption is my heart I What an amazing degree of pride 
and vanity, of selfishness and envy, does it contain! 

''July 23. Was excited to feel fretful and peevish at two 



92 MEMOIR OF 

or three trifling circumstances ; but fled for refuge to the 
throne of grace, and, by praying for myself, for the persons 
with whom I was disposed to be offended, and especially by 
meditating on the meekness and gentleness of Christ, was en- 
abled to preserve peace and tranquillity of mind. Was much 
assisted in prayer. 

^^ July 24. Was visited by a young student in divinity, and 
had some profitable conversation with him. Was never able 
to converse in a clearer manner upon religious subjects. 

^^ July 25. This being my birth-day, I set it apart for 
solemn fasting and prayer, with thanksgiving. After confess- 
ing and mourning over the sins of my past life, and contrasting 
them with God's mercies, and offering up praise and thanks- 
giving for his goodness, I solemnly renewed covenant with 
God, and, with my whole heart, so far as I could judge, gave 
myself, my friends, and all that I have, to be disposed of as he 
should see fit. I felt willing to live or die, as God pleased, 
and to go among the Indians, or to any part of the world, 
where I could be instrumental in promoting the glory of God, 
and the happiness of man. Felt unusually longing, insatiable, 
and intense desires after holiness of heart and life, and espe- 
cially after humility. Was never enabled to pray more fervently 
for spiritual blessings — could wrestle and persevere therein. 
Felt an impression that this is the last birth-day I shall ever see." 

The next day was the Sabbath, and he was so far spent with 
its labors, that it was with diflSculty he could reach his lodg- 
ings. The night was passed without rest ; and of his increased 
weakness in the morning * Satan was suffered to take advan- 
tage, and fill his mind with unutterable anguish.' But he 
\found relief in prayer^ and felt strengthened to go on with 
fresh vigor in his Christian course, exclaiming — O, how true 
it is, that, to those who have no might, he increaseth strength.' 

'^ July 29. I yesterday read an author on the subject of 
human depravity, and, being perplexed with some of his objec- 
tions, prayed to be guided to the truth in this doctrine. Was 
now convinced, beyond a doubt, that in me naturally dwelt no 
good thing. O, how vile, how loathsome did my heart ap- 
pear ! I was ready to think I had never known any thing at 
all of my own character before, and that there were infinite 
depths in my nature, that I could not see. In the course of the 
day, was favored with still further discoveries of myself, of true 
lioliness, and of Christ, so that I seemed never to have known 
any thing of religion before. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 93 

" Aug. 3. My blessed Saviour, compassionating my weak- 
ness, was pleased to make me strong in himself, and to favor 
me with a most refreshing season. Never felt so desirous to 
depart and be with Christ, and at the same time more willing to 
live* and undergo all hardships for his glory. Desired that 
my life might be spent in a close walk with God." 

His ' desire to become a missionary' revived about this time, 
but did not ripen into a fixed purpose, for the plain reason, that 
he could not determine that such was the will of God. He sub- 
mitted the decision of the question to his Master in heaven, pray- 
ing, * that God would do with him as he pleased, in this respect.* 

^^ Aug. 5. Was greatly perplexed and distressed, yet tried 
to keep myself in a quiet, waiting frame, but found great diffi- 
culty in keeping out impatient, murmuring .thoughts. Could 
not determine whether my being thus deserted was to punish 
me for my slothfulness and misimprovement of time, or only 
for the trial of my faith and patience. My soul remembered 
the bitterness and the gall which it had once before experi- 
enced on a similar occasion, and shuddered at the idea of a 
renewal." 

Extracts might be multiplied, exhibiting him as ' sinking in 
deep waters, where the floods overflow him,' and then again 
* surprised with a sudden visit from his blessed Lord, full of 
sweetness to his soul ;' — his mind at one time so clogged in its 
operations by his burdens, that he ' tried in vain to write ;' at 
another, so buoyant, that, ' though almost confined to his bed, 
he is enabled to write a whole sermon in a day.' This con- 
trast is no where more strikingly marked than by the follow- 
ing entry, after suffering from ' melancholy, which overwhelm- 
ed him like a thousand mountains, so that his soul was crushed 
under it :' — 

" Aug. 15. Rose in a sweet, tranquil, thankful fi*ame, bless- 
ing God for the storm of yesterday, and the calm to-day. O, 
how great is his wisdom, how great his goodness ! Had faith 
and freedom in prayer. Yesterday, I thought God himself 
could hardly carry me through. But to-day — O, how changed l' ' 

Before this, the reader may have expected to learn what 
influence his secret devotions had on the services of the sanc- 
tuary, also the result of his public labors in regard to the peo- 
ple to whom he ministered. It is almost superfluous to add, 

* ''Nor love thy life, nor hate 5 but what thou liv^si 
Live well ^ how long or short, permit to heaven." 



94 MEMOIR OF 

that they were not without effect. Others " took knowledge 
of him, that he had been with Jesus." The solemnity and 
unction of his social prayers ; the earnestness and variety of 
argument with which he pleaded at the throne of grace ; his 
unyielding importunity for the blessings which he sought, — 
had roused attention, and drawn forth the confession, that 
^ the Spirit of the holy God was within him.' *' God must 
help him, or he could never pray so," — said an observing man, 
who had previously professed no regard for religion. Herein 
he doubtless expressed the generally-prevailing sentiment, as 
Mr. Payson mentions among his trials, '' well-meant, but inju- 
dicious commendations" — while he renders ' all the glory to 
God, who did not suffer him to forget his own weakness.' 

But besides the general impression produced by his preach- 
ing, he was instrumental of individual conversions. More than 
once he was allowed to record an event like the following — 
'' Truly in faithfulness God afflicts me. Early this morning, a 
young man came to me under deep distress of mind, and gave 
pretty satisfactory evidence that he had experienced a real 
change. He said he had received great benefit from my 
preaching. This was a very seasonable cordial to my fainting 
spirits." Such events caused him to ' retire to his chamber, 
overflowing with wonder and gratitude at God's unmerited 
goodness to such a miserable wretch.' 

His faithful conversation was also blessed to the family with 
whom he resided ; and the last Sabbath on which he officiated 
at Marlborough, it was his happiness to propound his host and 
hostess as candidates for admission into the church. Thus 
early did God honor his ministry, and give him an earnest of 
the power which was to attend the word dispensed by him. 

Enough has been developed to show the secret of Dr. Pay- 
son's greatness, and of his success. He laid hold on the di- 
vine strength. Prayer, by which the creature communes with 
God, and obtains grace to help in every time of need, was em- 
inently the business of his life, and the medium through which 
he derived inexhaustible supplies. It was not the stated morn- 
ing and evening incense alone, which he offered ; but that he 
had 'much enlargement, and many sweet seasons of prayer 
during the day,' is matter of frequent record, and probably of 
still more frequent experience. Almost incessantly was he 
conversant with spiritual and eternal things. His conversation 
was in heaven. He also valued and sought the intercessions 
of others. In a letter to his parents, probably the first he ever 
wrote after he commenced preaching, he says — " I beg you to 
pray for me most earnestly and importunately. I seem to be 



EDWARD PAYSON. 95 

walking on a hair, and hardly dare go down to breakfast or 
dinner, lest I should say or do something which may disgrace 
the ministry, or hurt the cause of religion ; so that I shall 
never need your prayers more than now." — The sensibility to 
danger, here so apparent, though it occasionally subjected him 
to temporary indecision and perplexity, was, next to the prom- 
ised support of the Most High, his greatest security. 

It will also have been seen, that Mr. Payson was subject 
to great extremes of feeling — at one time, *^ caught up,'' with 
Paul, where he ' heard things unutterable ;' at another, sunk to 
the lowest point of depression, where existence was a *' burden 
too heavy for him." Many have imagined his Christian career 
to have been one of uninterrupted joy and triumph, and such 
will, perhaps, regret any allusion to those seasons when * his 
soul was cast down in him ;' but to keep these out of sight, 
would be to conceal a class of affections, from which his exer- 
cises, language and conduct received important modifications. 
Subsequently to this time, there were, in his character, phe- 
nomena to be accounted for ; and the causes, which it is impos- 
sible wholly to suppress, may as well be fairly divulged as merely 
insinuated and left for suspicion to magnify. Scoffers and re- 
vilers will draw poison from the disclosure — and what will they 
not pervert ? — but others will improve it to a holier purpose ; for 

'^ With a soul that ever felt the sting 
Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing-.'' 

There are minds so delicately strung, that they cannot escape 
its most distressing attacks. Friendship, philosophy, and even 
religion, as it exists in imperfect man, cannot oppose a com- 
plete barrier to its influence. With many, in fact, it is the 
principal part of their religious discipline. The best of men 
have occasionally groaned under its pressure. It made Job 
" weary of his life ;" and that pensive, tender-hearted prophet, 
wlio was sanctified from the womb, and to whom the subject 
of this Memoir bore no slight resemblance, complains — ^' When 
I would comfort myself against sorrow, my heart is faint in 
me !" Why should it be thought strange, then, that uninspired 
men are not exempted from this calamity ? 

'' 'Tis not, as heads that never ache suppose, 

Forgery of fancy, and a dream of woes 3 

Man is a harp, whose chords elude the sight, 

Each yielding hannony, disposed aright 5 

The screws reversed, (a task, which, if he please, 

God in a moment executes with ease,) 

Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose, 
Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use.'' 

'' No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, 

No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals." 



96 MEMOIR OF 

And yet how barbarously is the state of mind, here described, 
treated 1 

"This, of all maladies that man infest, 
Claims most compassion, and receives the least j 
Job felt it when he groaned beneath the rod 
And tile barbed arrows of a frowning God j 
And such emollients as his friends could spare. 
Friends such as his for modem Jobs prepare. 
Blest, rather curst, with hearts that never feel, 
Kept snug in caskets of close-hammered steel, 
With mouths made only to grin wide and eat, 
And minds that deem derided pain a treat, 
With limbs of British oak, and nerves of wire, 
And wit, that puppet-prompters might inspire. 
Their sovereign nostrum is a clumsy joke 
On pangs enforced with God's severest stroke.'' 

Language, which is wrung from a man by the agony of 
feehng, will, nevertheless, be variously interpreted by different 
readers, as they shall sympathize or not with his doctrinal be- 
lief. Had the expressions already quoted, and which, in the 
mouth of a cold calculator, would certainly indicate a disgust 
with life, escaped Mr. Payson at a later period, immediately 
on some reverse in his prospects, by which his fame would be 
affected — they might have been regarded as the language of 
disappointed ambition, presenting a case analogous to that of 
the disobedient prophet, who, because God had averted from 
Nineveh the catastrophe which he had predicted, thought he 
* did well to be angry, even unto death.' But he had just en- 
tered on his profession, had matured no schemes of self-exal- 
tation, was without a rival, and a mere sojourner, not knowing 
whither his next remove would be, or where his ultimate des- 
tination v/ould place him. His pretensions were as modest, 
and his expectations as humble, as those of any man in simi- 
lar circumstances. And, so far from suffering the chamn of 
disappointment, his preaching was regarded' with a degree of 
approbation which exceeded his highest hopes. In no case 
do these expressions indicate a deliberately formed and cher- 
ished wish ; on the contrary, they are the utterance of a mo- 
mentary and involuntary feeling ; a feeling suddenly excited, 
and more suddenly rejected ; a feeling, therefore, which might 
liave left the mind wholly uncontaminated with guilt. 

'^ Evil into the mind of God or man 

May come and go, so unapproved, and leave 

No spot or blame behind." 

In judging of this class of his exercises, it should not be for- 
gotten, that his health was already undermined ; his system had 
lost much of its elasticity, and encountered a shock, from the 
effects of which it never afterwards recovered. Besides, he 
had a constitutional predisposition to melancholy, which other 



EDWARD PAYSON. 97 

branches of his family are said to have inherited to a still more 
painful degree. This caused him frequently to view every 
thing connected with his own personal security, prospects, and 
usefulness, through the medium of a distorting and aggravat- 
ing gloom. But to make his faith accountable for his distresses, 
would be the highest offence to his now sainted spirit, and the 
grossest libel upon that religion which bore him al3ove the 
immeasurably accumulated sufferings of his last days. His 
religion, instead of being the cause of his gloom, w^as his only 
refuge from its overwhelming effects. The precious doctrines 
of grace, according to his own views of them, alone kept him 
from sinking. His distress, indeed, was oflen owing to in- 
adequate causes, and his ' mind slow to receive the comfort' 
which God is ever ready to bestow ; but if, with his own views 
of the gospel, he was sometimes melancholy, with different 
views he would have gone distracted. 

These remarks are not intended as a defence, but as an im- 
partial exhibition of facts. We are not concerned to approve 
of every thing in Mr. Payson's character. He was a man — a 
sinner ; and it is well for survivers that he had faults, lest, in 
looking at him, they should lose sight of his and their Saviour. 
To a man whom so many excellences rendered lovely, and 
who was, in the best sense, the benefactor of thousands, they 
would be in danger of rendering a sort of idolatrous homage, 
if there were no features in his character to be contemplated 
with pain and regret. So far as the destruction of his health 
was brought on by his own imprudences, he is to be blamed ; 
and is, in a measure, responsible for the consequences. He did 
not foresee them, it is true, but thought himself an exception 
to a general law ; still he should have hearkened to the paren- 
tal voice which warned him. He erred too — if one may say 
it without arrogance, whose pretensions to piety are as nothing 
compared with his — in looking too much to frames for the 
evidences of his piety. He was too solicitous for sensible en- 
joyment, and too much disturbed by its absence. Yet, however 
deep his sadness at these times, he had not a settled melan- 
choly. With his susceptibility, he could not, probably, have 
survived a long period of spiritual desertion, and to this he was 
not doomed ; but he was too impatiently eager for total exemp- 
tion, and for this he was most severely chastised by the same 
kind hand which so plentifully rewarded his fidelity. 

There is, however, one aspect, in which all the hardships 
that he imposed on himself, — the ruin of his constitution by ab- 
stinence, night vigils, and extraordinary exertion, and even all 
his mental agonies, — ^niay be viewed with a feeling of entire 
9 



98 MEMOIR OF 

reconciliation. All these trying processes, to which he sub- 
jected his mind, may justly he regarded as a series of experi- 
ments on himself, designed by Providence for the good of the 
church, indeed of the human race. To him, in the exercise 
of his future ministry, they were incalculably valuable. The 
knowledge acquired by this painful experience was not without 
vast expense to himself; but it constituted one of his most im- 
portant qualifications for aiding numerous other souls through 
the labyrinths of error and mental distress. In this way, he 
was taught *^ how to speak a word in season to him that is 
weary" — to be " a guide of the blind, a light to them that are 
in darkness, a teacher of babes.'' So familiar did he become 
with almost every possible case of conscience, every form of 
spiritual trial and delusion, to which either inquirers or estab- 
lished Christians are exposed, that he could instantly recog- 
nise their symptoms, and apply the needed antidote. 

In all his revolutions of feeling, varied exercises, and chang- 
ing frames, there is discoverable an unvarying simplicity of 
purpose. The destruction of sin, and the extension of the 
empire of holiness in himself and others, are the objects con- 
stantly before him. His eye was single, and directed to the 
glory of God ; and he longed for the salvation of men, as the 
work in which the divine glory eminently appears. He com- 
plains frequently of his pride, vanity, and selfishness — qualities, 
doubtless, eminently congenial v/ith his unrenewed nature, but 
which were now evidently most unwelcome intruders, and 
which it was his constant grief that he could not wholly dis- 
lodge. Let those, who would convert his full confessions into 
a proof, * that he was sinful above all men/ be reminded, that, 
if they were to watch the motions of their own hearts with the 
same unrelenting severity, they might find even greater abom- 
inations, than any of which he complains, holding hitherto 
undisturbed empire over their souls ; and not, as in him, an- 
noying, yet conquered passions, which the gracious principle 
would in the end wholly eradicate. 

On the 18th of August, he took * a very affectionate leave of 
the family by whom he had been so kindly entertained,* and 
revisited home, where he spent three days ; and then * set out 
in a violent rain for Andover,' Mass., where he had an engage- 
ment to preach, and * felt some consolation in reflecting that 
he was going on his Father's and Saviour's business.' The 
second day, he arrived, * wet, wearied, and dejected.' Of his 
performances on the following Sabbath, he says — *' I had little 
assistance in preaching, and pleased neither the people nor 
mfselfJ' He here expresses, not an opinion merely, but a 



EDWARD PAYSON. 99 

fact. Popular as he deservedly was, his preaching was not 
regarded with favor by the church in North Andover, which 
had been left destitute by the death of Dr. Symmes. Wheth- 
er it were owing to their preference, or his, or to a special 
providence, he tarried there but one Sabbath, and his next re- 
move was to the scene of his future labors — a field vastly more 
extensive, and one which he was eminently fitted to occupy. 



100 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER VII. 

Visits Portland — his favorable reception, and Ordination. 

On the morning of Monday, August 24th, Mr. Payson left 
Andover for Portland ; his mind absorbed with heavenly medita- 
tions on the road, and praying and renewing his covenant with 
God at his resting places. Stop where he might, he was sure 
to find or to make the place a Bethel ; and while the solemni- 
ty of his devotions resembled that of the patriarch's on his way 
to Padan-aram, his faith realized what that patriarch saw in vis- 
ion, and found an open way of communication between earth 
and heaven. Thus he journeyed, 

^^ Prayer all his business^ all his pleasure praise." 

He arrived on the morning of the third day, and lost no time 
in renewing his acquaintance, and entering on his new duties 
there. The frightful reputation of being a Hopkinsian had 
preceded him, and accounts in part for the following entry in 
his diary : — 

^^ Aug. 27. Visited a number of my old friends, lest they 
should think me sour and morose, and so pay less regard to 
my preaching. V/as kindly received." 

A letter to bis parents contains more on the same subject : — 

''Portland, Aug. 31, 180':'. 

'*I arrived here on Wednesday morning, 26th inst., after a 
very pleasant ride, from which I have already derived suffi- 
cient advantage to compensate me for the time and expense. 
My health seems wonderfully improved ; I enjoy sound, re- 
freshing sleep, which I have not for two months before; and 
I feel strong and able to study. Nor shall I derive less advan- 
tage, in another point of view, from this tour. Mr. Kellogg 
tells me, that he had heard in Boston, that I was rapidly gain- 
ing the title and reputation of a Hopkinsian ; and that a great 
part of his plan, in getting me here, was to counteract that re- 
port, and, with the assistance of Mrs. K., to make something of 
me, to use his own expression. However this may be he seems 



EDWARD PAYSON. IQl 

disposed to be of service to me, and has already given me 
some hints, that will be very beneficial. He has also a good 
library, and I shall, I trust, be able to spend the time here both 
profitably and agreeably. As the people here have heard that 
I am a Hop., and think it a great pity that a harmless young 
man should be transformed into such a shocking creature, I 
thought it might have a good effect to call upon all my old 
acquaintance, in order to convince them that my religion was 
not of that morose, unsocial kind which they supposed ; and 
that a Hopkinsian, supposing me to be one, was not quite so 
bad as the devil. My visits were received more kindly than I 
expected, and, 1 have reason to think, will, in some measure, 
produce the designed effect." 

Mr. Pay son entered upon the appropriate duties of his call- 
ing with the most exemplary diligence and energy, and the 
effects were almost immediately visible. Such was the. atten- 
tion excited by his preaching, that he seems to have regarded 
himself as in great danger of thinking more highly of himself 
than he ought to think, and to have brought all his spiritual 
forces to bear against this propensity. With reference to this, 
he observed frequent seasons of humiliation, and oftener renew- 
ed the consecration of himself and his talents to God. It was 
the burden of his secret prayers, that he might be delivered 
fi*om pride, from self-seeking, from preaching himself, instead 
of Christ Jesus the Lord. 

" Sept 6. Heard my performances much commended ; and, 
fearing lest I should feel puffed up, I withdrew, and prayed 
earnestly that I might be preserved from it. And God was 
pleased to assist me in a most wonderful and unusual manner 
in pleading, not only for that and other mercies, but in renew- 
ing covenant with him, and praising him for all his mercies. 
Never felt more gratitude, more humility, more love to God 
and benevolence to man, than at this time. Indulged some 
hopes that God would pour out his Spirit, but hardly expected 
it. Saw that all the mercies I received were bestowed for the 
sake of my Lord Jesus alone ; and that in myself I was far 
more deserving of hell than of all that happiness. Could not 
praise God as I wished, but my soul panted, and almost fainted 
with ardor of desire to glorify him, and be wholly devoted to 
his service. 

''Sept, 14. Read Baxter on Pride. Was almost over- 
whelmed to see how much I have in my heart. Could hardly 
refrain from despairing of ever being humble.*' 
9* 



102 MEMOIR or 

In a letter to his father, written a few days after this, he 
complains of himself in the following strain : — 

** I almost despair of making any improvement in this world. 
God keeps loading me with one blessing on another, but 1 
cannot grow any more grateful. I cannot feel less proud, less 
selfish, less worldly-minded. O, if God by his Spirit did not 
prevent me, and still in a manner force me to keep striving 
almost against my will, I should give up in despair. It makes 
no difference— let me labor ever so much, and feel ever so 
lively while alone, the moment I go into the pulpit, or a con- 
ference meeting, I am as dead and stupid as a post, and have 
no realizing sense of divine things. The meeting-house is the 
grave of every thing good, and the place where corruption al- 
ways gets the mastery. Sometimes it seems impossible that it 
should be so. I set out from home so strong, so raised above 
the world, with so much zeal for God, and so much compassion 
for poor, perisliing sinners, that I cannot help hoping it is going 
to be better with me. But the moment I begin, it is all gone! 
When I seem to be much engaged, and the people think I am 
all on fire, I fear that God sees my heart like a mere block of 
ice. If there are any who can look back with pleasure on a 
life well spent, I can hardly hope that I am a Christian, or that 
I ever shall be one ; for never shall I be able to do that. Adieu, 
my dearest parents : do continue to pray for me, for I am walking 
on ice, or, as the prophet says, " in slippery places in darkness." 

Mr. Pay son's situation was at this time truly critical and 
dangerous. His reception as a preacher was flattering almost 
beyond example. Not one man in a thousand can bear human 
applause uninjured. *^Wo unto )^ou," said Christ to his dis- 
ciples, '^ when all men shall speak well of you." The most 
dreadful part of this wo is that which falls upon one's spirit- 
ual interests. Mr. Payson had scarcely been six weeks in 
Portland, before overtures were made to him, by each of the 
three Congregational societies, to become their teacher ; and 
there was also a plan agitated to build him a new meeting- 
house. Applications from diflferent parishes in the vicinity, 
and likewise from abroad, were frequent. The letters, which 
he wrote to his parents, at this period, contain interesting al- 
lusions to his circumstances : — 

'' Portland, Sept. 12, 1807. 
''My dearest Parents, 

'* When I came here, I could not help indulging a secret 
hope, that I should be so favored as to see some happy effects 



EDWARD PAYSON. IQg 

resulting from it. I know not, however, whether it arose so 
high as hope ; it was, perhaps, rather a wish. Whether this 
wish will in any degree be gratified, is at present uncertain. 
The people seem to rouse themselves up, and stare, and hard- 
ly know what to make of it. They, however, appear to exhib- 
it less enmity and ill-will than I expected. Some of the prin- 
cipal men, who are not suspected of being very friendly to 
religion, say, as 1 am informed, that, to be sure, my sermons 
are rather hot, but they are convinced no other kind of preach- 
ing would ever do any good. Others say, it cuts up all their 
own foundation, and ail their hopes of heaven ; but they think 
it a duty to support these doctrines, because they are true. 
The congregation is very solemn and attentive; but I dare 
not yet hope for any lasting effects. Some are displeased, and 
have left the meeting ; but there are three come from other 
meetings for one who goes away. The power of novelty, 
however, is great, and when that is over, I expect there will 
be less attention, and less crowded meetings." 
* * « ' * 

*' I understand there is quite a revival of religion at North 
Yarmouth, about a dozen miles from this place. There have 
already been two or three there, and they seem to be rG«iark- 
ably favored. One memorable instance, which has lately 
taken place, I have just heard. Three females, the wives of 
three sea-captains who were all at sea in different parts of the 
world, were deeply impressed, and, after severe convictions, 
obtained comfort. Just about the same time, all their absent 
husbands were converted at sea. The wives, meanwhile, 
were anxious for the spiritual welfare of their husbands, and 
the husbands were no less concerned for their wives. Judge 
what a happy meeting they must have had when they found 
what God had done for each other during their separation. 
The attention is still increasing, and there have been about 
thirty added to the church.'' 

" September 19. 

" I have been ill a week of the influenza, which attacked 
me pretty severely. It seems as if it was sent to afford a fresh 
opportunity for displaying the unwearied care and kindness of 
our heavenly Father, in raising up friends whenever I want 
them. In this case, he has provided me a nurse and a mother 
in the woman who presides over the family in Mrs. K's ab- 
sence. She has been doubting respecting her state, and her 
right to join the church, for some years ; and was so thankful 
because I conversed with her on these subjects, that she was 



104 MEMOIR OF 

ready to kill me with kindness. In addition to this, I have 
been overwhelmed with preserves, jellies, &c. of the richest 
kinds, from all parts. Some have sent them in, from whom I 
should have little expected it. It seems as if God were put- 
ting it to trial, whether my insensible heart can be wrought 
upon by mercies. I fear the result of the trial will be, that 
nothing but severe judgments will answer. 

** I sometimes think it strange, that, when God is so ready 
to bestow mercies, he does not enable us to receive them with 
more gratitude, and why he seems less ready to give us grace 
to conquer pride and self Pray for me, my dear parents, that 
I may be enabled to conquer them.'' 

" September 26. 

"I am, and have been, for some days, in a great dilemma. 
Last Monday, I had an application to preach for a new society 
here, which Mr. S., the missionary, has lately drawn together. 
They are building a meeting-house, and expect to be incorpo- 
rated at the next session of the legislature. They have heard 
me at Mr. K's, and intimated that, if I would come, they 
should probably settle me, as one man had offered a hundred 
pounds to the society on that condition, and thirty more had 
offered to subscribe for pews. On Tuesday, I had an invita- 
tion from Westboro' to come immediately, and another from 
Gorham. They have also applied to me to come to Dr. 
Deane's parish, and preach for them ; and now, this morning, 
Mr. Kellogg has a letter from Portsmouth, wishing me to 
^yOme there immediately. On the other hand, Mr. K. insists 
upon it, that I ought to stay with him through the month of 
October. There seems to be some attention excited, and two 
persons have been convinced, and I hope converted, since I 
have been here. It is, I find, Mr. K's plan, if I should 
prove popular enough, to have a new society, and unite it 
with his own in such a manner, as to have one parish in 
two societies, and two ministers to preach in each house alter- 
nately. 

" Now, my dear parents, what shall I do ? I am so much 
afraid that I shall be left to lean to my own understanding, 
that I have no comfort. I wish to go to Portsmouth, because 
it is on my way home ; but principally because the society 
there is in a bad state, and in great danger of breaking up and 
going to the Universalists. On the other hand, there seems to 
be a door opened for great usefulness here ; and Providence 
has, in some measure, owned my labors, and the people 
seem very anxious to have me stay. If one could only hear 



EDWARD PAYSON. IQ5 

the Spirit, as a voice behind him, saying, * This is the way, 
walk in it,' — it seems duty would be easily discovered. 1 
know that there is no need of being uneasy, when we have 
done the best we can to discover the path of duty ; but there 
is so much self-seeking in every thing I do, that I can- 
not be sure I have sincerely sought to discover the path of 
duty. It is such a dreadful thing to be left to follow one's 
own guidance. My dear father, do write to me/' 

The following sentences from his diary will be regarded 
as a curiosity by those who are acquainted with Dr. Payson's 
eminence as a ready speaker : — 

" Sept. 25. In the evening, went to a conference, and for 
the first time expounded extempore. Made out poorly." 

His rapidly rising fame, and the flattering attentions paid 
him as a preacher, injurious as they can hardly fail to be, did 
not divert Mr. Payson from the great object of the ministry of 
reconciliation. If his desire for personal holiness was ex- 
ceeded by any other, it was by the desire of the salvation of 
sinners. 

^' Sept. 27. Sab. Was favored w^ith great and unusual as- 
sistance both parts of the day, and the people were remarkably 
serious and attentive. Came home overwhelmed with a sense 
of the astonishing goodness of God. Felt grateful, humble, 
and contrite, and was enabled to ascribe all the glory to God. 
In the evening, was favored with great faith and fervency in 
prayer. It seemed as if God would deny me nothing, and I 
wrestled for multitudes of souls, and could not help hoping 
there would be some revival here. 

*^ Sept. 28. Found that my labors have not been altogether 
without effect. Was favored with the greatest degree of free- 
dom and fervency in interceding for others. I seemed to 
travail in birth with poor sinners, and could not help hoping 
that God is about to do something for his glory and the good 
of souls. 

" Sept. 29. Was considerably affected with a view of the 
av^ful condition of sinners, and was favored with some freedom 
in praying' for them. — I know not what to think, but at pres- 
ent there seem to be some indications in Providence, that this 
is to be my station in the vineyard. I desire to bless God, 
that he scarcely suffers me either to hope or fear the event^^ 
but to feel resigned to whatever he may appoint. 



106 MEMOIR OF 

" Sept. 30. Felt much of a dependent, confiding, child-like 
spirit. God is doing great things for me. I never enjoyed 
such a season before, as I have for these three days past. My 
heart overflows with love and thankfulness to God, and pity 
for poor sinners. 

" Oct. 4. Went to meeting with more of a solemn frame 
than usual. Was greatly assisted, and the congregation was 
apparently very solemn and devout. Was ready to sink, to 
see how easily the impression seemed to wear off. 

" Oct. 7. Visited two persons under conviction, conversed 
and prayed with them. Had a most refreshing season in se- 
cret prayer. Renewed covenant with God. My soul seemed 
to dilate and expand with happiness. All the stores of divine 
grace were opened, and I took freely for myself and others. 
Was assisted to plead for poor sinners. 

" Oct. 8. Was favored with clear displays of the divine 
glory this morning, and was enabled to rejoice in God with 
joy unspeakable. Felt sweetly humbled and resigned to every 
thing which should befall me. In the afternoon, preached a 
lecture, and was left dry and barren. In the evening, preach- 
ed another, and was very greatly assisted. Came home hum- 
bled in the dust under some stirrings of spiritual pride, which 
I could not repress. Was favored with a most refreshing sea- 
son in secret prayer. Felt that love which casteth out fear, 
and hung on the bosom of my God with inexpressible pleasure. 
The Scriptures too were exceedingly sweet. Had been in 
some perplexity respecting the path of duty ; but was helped 
to roll the whole burden upon Him. 

" Oct. 9. Was visited by a minister who heard me preach 
last evening, and received many valuable hints from him re- 
specting my feelings in prayer and preaching. 

" Oct. II. Never was in such an agony before in WTes- 
tling for mercies, especially in behalf of poor souls, and for a 
work of religion in this place. My soul seemed as if it would 
leave the body, and mount to heaven in the most ardent de- 
sires for their salvation. Went by invitation to spend the 
evening in an irreligious family. Found several assembled, 
and, to my very great but pleasing surprise, the conversation 
took a very serious, religious turn. Came home hoping that 
God was on the point of doing something in this place, but 
was so worn out, that I had little life in prayer. 

^* Oct. 16. Church meeting — a profitable and refreshing 
time. Some new persons are awakened ; Christians are stir- 
red up, and there is every reason to hope God is on the point 
of appearijig ^or us. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



107 



" Oct. 17. Was enabled, in some measure, to mourn over 
my pride and selfishness, unbelief, and hardness of heart. 
Having last evening proposed to the church that we should 
spend an hour this evening in prayer, separately, for the out- 
pouring of the Spirit, attempted to pray, but feared my mo- 
tives were selfish. However, prayed that God's people might 
not be ashamed on my account. 

** Was informed that the church and congregation had given 
me a unanimT)us call. I know not what Providence intends 
by this. Went and spread the matter before God, and en- 
treated him to overrule all things to his own glory. 

" Oct. 19. Spent the whole day in conversing with per- 
sons exercised in their minds. In the evening, visited and 
prayed with a number of persons, who met for that purpose. 

" Oct. 20. Felt something of the constraining influence of 
the love of Christ. For some nights past, have been laboring 
in my sleep with poor souls. Felt strong in the Lord and in 
the power of his might. In the afternoon, went to visit two 
persons in distress, and found them in a hopeful way. In the 
evening, preached a lecture extempore. Was not much as- 
sisted myself, but what was said seemed to come with power. 
Many were in tears, and all seemed stirred up ; so that, though 
I went crushed down under discouragement, I came back re- 
joicing. 

'' Oct. 22. Began to feel more clear respecting my com- 
pliance with the call I have received. 

** Oct. 23. W^as left to murmur and feel impatient, and my 
^?/roud, unhumbled heart rose against God ; but he was gra- 
ciously pleased to touch my heart, and bring me on my knees 
before him, and thus I obtained pardon. In the evening, at- 
tended a conference, and preached. Was very much shut up, 
but found it was a most refreshing season to many of God's 
people, so that I was astonished to see how God could work 
by the most feeble means. 

" Oct. 24' Went to visit a man almost in despair. He 
talked like a Christian, but was in dreadful distress, and re- 
jected all comfort. Prayed with him, but in vain. 

'* Oct. 25. Visited and prayed with a sick woman. Found 
her and her husband under strong convictions. In the even- 
ing, was visited by persons under concern of mind, and con- 
versed with them. 

** Oct. 27. In the evening, attended a conference, and 
preached to a crowded and solemn audience. Saw the hand 
of God evidently appearing in it, and came home strengthen- 
ed, thougi I had gone much cast down. 



108 MEMOIR OF 

" Oct, 28. Felt some gratitude and humility this morning. 
Wondered how God could choose such a worthless wretch to 
bestow such favors upon. Dined with * * *, a lawyer, and 
had much religious conversation with him, with which he 
seemed much affected. In the evening, met a number who 
were under serious impressions. Conversed and prayed with 
them. 

" Oct. 29. Was greatly drawn out in prayer for a continu- 
ance of God's presence, and for myself and some particular 
friends. Spent the day in visiting a number of persons who 
were under concern, and found that some who had been dear 
to my heart, and who I could hardly hope were under convic- 
tion, appeared to have met with a real change. Was over- 
whelmed with wonder, love, and gratitude, at the goodness of 
God ; but, as an offset to this, was informed of some injurious 
observations, and was, moreover, harassed and almost distract- 
ed with doubts where Providence called me to settle ; but was 
able, at length, to cast the burden upon the Lord." 

On the 30th of October, he set out on a journey to his fa- 
ther's, taking Portsmouth on his way, where he preached on 
the Sabbath, and received a request from the people to tarry 
among them, which he felt it his duty to decline. He reached 
home November 3, and spent the following day in conversing 
with his friends : — '^ Consulted them respecting my call, and 
found that they were unanimous in advising me to accept the 
call of Mr. Kellogg's parish. Rejoiced to see my path made 
plain before me." 

" Nov, 6. Parted from my friends with prayer, and set out 
for Portsmouth in a violent storm, which continued most of 
the day. Was harassed with storms within, part of the way, 
but afterwards was calm. 

''Nov, 8. Was favored with a most sweet, refreshing sea- 
son, before meeting, in secret prayer. Preached three times, 
the last to a crowded and solemn assembly. Was invited to 
stay and preach on probation, but was obliged to decline. 

''Nov. 9. Rode to Portland. Was favored on the road 
with very clear manifestations of God's love. Felt most ar- 
dent emotions of gratitude, with full resolutions to devote my- 
self to the service of God. Was overwhelmed with a sense of 
his mercies, and my own unworthiness. 

"Nov, 10. Had a deep sense of the difficulty and impor- 
tance of the gospel ministry, and of my own utter insufficiency 
for it. Was ready to sink under it, till in some measure re- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 1Q9 

lieved by a view of the fulness and sufficiency of Christ. 
Moses and Jeremiah were very encouraging examples. 

*' Nov, 13. In the evening, attended a church confer- 
ence, and preached. Divine truth, though in an humble garb, 
came with great power, and the hearers seemed much affected. 
After coming home, heard of some difficulty, made by one of 
the church members, respecting the baptismal covenant, which 
I wish to have given up. Committed the case to God. 

** Nov, 15. Preached and read my affirmative answer to the 
call. Was favored with liberty, and the people seemed to be 
affected, 

" Nov, 17. Visited a sick man ; found him partly deranged, 
clasping a Bible to his breast, which he would not suffer to be 
taken from him. 

^^ Nov, 30. Very unwell. From some symptoms, feel ap^ 
prehensive that my cough may terminate in a consumption ; 
but the thought is not disagreeable. The only thing painful 
about it is the pain it w^ould give my parents. 

^' Dec, 1. Had a sleepless, painful night, but, through di- 
vine goodness, was kept patient, and even cheerful. Was very 
sick in the morninof, 

'^ Dec, 3. Still quite unwell, but had a sight of my neces- 
sities, and was helped to cry out for assistance. — P. M. Had 
a sweet season in prayer. Could pray sincerely, that others 
might be exalted above me in gifts and graces, and that souls 
might be converted, let who would be the instrument. I^elt 
weaned from the world, and resigned to whatever might befall 
me. 

" Dec 4, Extremely weak. Am convinced that I cannot 
live many years, if many months. Went out to see a sick 
person, and took more cold. 

^^ Dec. 7. Rose early; was in a cloudy kind of frame. 
Visited and prayed with a number of sick people. In the 
evening, was favored with a deep view of the importance and 
magnitude of the ministry, and had much freedom in crying 
for grace to help, 

" Dec, 9. Though I have less sensible comfort, faith seems 
to be in exercise, and I will still trust in God, though he slay me. 

" Dec. 10. Was seized with the symptoms of a fever. 

*' Dec. 11. Begin to think seriously that my time is short. 
My lungs appear to be deeply affected, and the result may be 
fatal. 

** Dec. 12. Had a melting season in prayer this morning. 
Felt ^iler than the vilest. Spent the evening with my father, 
whc came ^o atten*: the ordination. 
10 



110 MEMOIR OF 

" Dec. 14 My body and mind seemed alike weak and in- 
capable of exertion. My cough increases, and bids fair to 
terminate in a consumption. 

" Dec, 15. Rose extremely unwell, and continued so dur- 
ing the day. Could do nothing. In the evening, tried to 
pray, but was soon interrupted by weakness and lassitude. 

^^ Dec. 16. Ordination. Rose very early, and renewed 
my covenant with God, taking him for my Portion, and giving 
myself up to him for the work of the gospel ministry. Had 
considerable assistance in this, and in seeking ministerial qual- 
ifications ; but my strength failed. Felt in something of a 
quiet, happy, dependent frame in meeting, especially during 
the ordaining prayer.'' 

It is peculiarly gratifying to peruse such a record as this 
last paragraph contains, of the state of his mind on this most 
solemn and eventful occasion. That a mind so highly suscep- 
tible, and so frequently borne down to the very dust by its 
overwhelming sense of ministerial responsibility, should be 
preserved in this ** quiet, happy, dependent frame,'' while in 
the act of assuming the most weighty and momentous of all 
trusts ever committed to man, — of consummating that sacred 
connexion which was to aiFect the everlasting weal or wo of 
numerous undying souls, — can be ascribed to nothing but the 
special favor of God. It should be noticed in honor of His 
faithfulness, who will not desert his devoted servants in any 
trying emergency. In anticipation of this crisis, and under 
the responsibilities of the labors which were conducting him 
to it, he had habitually cast his burden upon the Lord ; and by 
the Lord was that burden sustained. His mind was kept in 
peace, for it was stayed on God. 

** A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth 
his steps." Mr. Payson went to Portland with no expectation, 
probably, of making that his permanent residence, but merely 
to supply, temporarily, Mr. Kellogg's pulpit. Mr. K., undoubt- 
edly, had a further design in procuring his assistance, even 
from the first ; but its accomplishment was suwspended on cir- 
cumstances yet to be developed, and it ^could not, therefore, 
be properly disclosed. But when, on experiment, he saw the 
young preacher's labors so well received by the people, and so 
evidently blessed, he spared no endeavors to retain his valua- 
ble services, which he showed himself willing to do at the ex- 
pense of any reasonable sacrifice. 



EDWARD PA ^SON. 1 1 ] 

With the feelings, and principles, and rigid self-discipline, 
the consciousness of human guilt and weakness, and of the 
consequent necessity of an atonement, and a divine power to 
work all our works in us and for us, which are to be recog- 
nised in the extracts that have been given, it is not to be pre- 
sumed that Mr. Payson would show much indulgence to a lax 
theology, which degrades the Saviour, and flatters man. It 
was from deep-rooted principle, that he could not hold fellow- 
ship with such doctrines, and that he abstained, in his minis- 
terial intercourse, from all official acts, which would be inter- 
preted as a token of such fellowship. Hence he endured no 
small share of obloquy, for which those of a different faith are 
not exclusively responsible. 

The steadfastness with which he avoided giving the least 
countenance to what he regarded as *' another gospel," must 
have been greatly confirmed by the exercises at his ordination. 
The sermon on this occasion, preached by his venerable father, 
was founded on 1 Tim. v. 22, — hay hands suddenly on no man^ 
neither he -par laker of other men^s sins, — and well illustrated the 
apostle's ^ caution against introducing persons suddenly into 
the ministry, and the reason with which that caution is en- 
forced.' Some portions of it seem to have been almost pro- 
phetic ; they show, at least, that the author was ' able to discern 
the signs of the time.' The paragraphs containing the appli- 
cation of the subject to his son, the pastor elect, will be here 
inserted. Though the circumstances in which they were 
uttered were suited to render them peculiarly impressive, they 
will be found to possess an interest and importance to com- 
mend them to general attention, independently of the occasion. 

" In fulfilling his purposes of mercy to our apostate race, it 
has pleased a sovereign God to constitute an order of men to 
preach the unsearchable riches of Christ, and thus to co-ope- 
rate with himself in accomplishing that object, upon which his 
adorable Son came into our world. That it is permitted me 
to assist in introducing you, my dear son, into this highly fa- 
vored number, as a fellow-worker with God in this glorious 
design, is an act of his grace, for which I hope our hearts are 
unitedly adoring his sovereign love. How astonishing is the 
goodness of God to his unworthy creatures ! How great the 
feonor of being admitted to share in the glory of that work 
which is all his own ! This, however, is not the hour of tri- 
umph. Your feelings, I hope, accord with that maxim of wis- 
dom — " Let not him who girdeth on the harness boast him- 
self as he that putteth i* >ff." Under the wise and holy gov- 



^*i 



J-;S-j: 



112 MEMOIR OF 

ernmeiit of God, no station or office confers honor, but in con- 
nexion with a faithful discharge of its duties. If we would 
obtain that honor which cometh from God only, it must be by 
** patient continuance in well doing." The glories which now 
crown the human nature of the Lord Jesus Christ, were won 
in the field of battle. They are the just reward of invincible 
virtue and unexampled benevolence. To be admitted into the 
number of his ministers, is honorable for this reason only, that, 
we are thus brought into the field, where the highest honor is 
to be won ; where all the virtuous feelings of the heart have 
full play ; and where an opportunity is afforded of bringing 
into action all the energies of the soul, in a service m.ost inti- 
mately connected with the glory of God, and the salvation of 
mankind. In this distinguished station, we are eminently a 
spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men. 

** Your path of duty is made plain by the light both of pre- 
cept and example. Every motive which can influence the hu- 
man mind prompts you to fidelity ; and, for your encouragement 
to go boldly forward in the line of duty, almighty love opens 
its inexhaustible stores of wisdom, grace, and strength, invit- 
ing you to draw near and receive according to your necessi- 
ties. The object of the observations, which have now been 
made, is to impress you with a sense of the importance of in- 
vestigating, so far as human imperfection wdll admit, the char- 
acters and qualifications of candidates for the ministerial office. 
To me this subject appears of vast, and, from the character of 
the age in which we live, of increasing importance. It is far 
from being my wish to see you contending for particular forms 
of expressing divine truth, or zealously engaged in supporting 
points, respecting which, through remaining imperfection, 
wise and good men are divided. This is far beneath the dig- 
nified object, which ought to engage the attention of the Chris- 
tian minister. But, if my most earnest entreaties, if a facer's 
solemn charge, have any influence, never will you be induced to 
employ the powers of ordination, with which you are now to be 
invested, in raising the enemies of God and his truth to the 
pernicious eminence of teachers in the Christian church. In 
pursuing this leading object, it has been my aim to present to 
your mind the distinguishing characteristics of the pastor after 
God's own heart. I hope no earthly attainment appears in 
your view so desirable as that meekness and faithfulness, that 
superiority to selfish views, and those fervent, holy, disinter- 
ested affections, of which a sketch has now been exhibited. 
May they ever be the sole objects of your ambition, and be 
p'lrsued with all that ardor, activity, diligence, and perseve- 



EDWARD PAYSON. |13 

ranee, with which the children of this world pursue its pleas- 
ures, its honors, and wealth. 

" In laboring to form your mind to ministerial fidelity, may 
I not hope for some assistance from that active principle of fil- 
ial affection, which has ever rendered you studious of a father's 
comfort ? I can think with calmness, nay, with a degree of 
pleasure, of your suffering for righteousness' sake ; and, should 
the world pour upon you its obloquy, its scorn and reproach, 
for your fidelity to your Master's cause, a father's heart would 
still embrace you with, if possible, increased fondness. But to 
see you losing sight of the great objects which ought to en- 
gage your attention, courting the applause of the world, infect- 
ed with the infidel sentiments of the day, and neglecting the 
immortal interests of those now about to be committed to your 
care ; — this, O my son, I could not support. It would bring 
down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. But is it possi- 
ble, that in such a cause, v/ith such motives to fidelity, and 
with prospects, may I not add, so peculiarly pleasing as those 
which now surround you, you should, notwithstanding, prove un- 
faithful ? It is possible ; for there is nothing too base, too un- 
grateful, or destructive of our own most important interests, for 
human nature to commit ; and, unless the grace of the Lord Jesus 
preserve you, the glory of God will be forgotten, your Saviour will 
by you be crucified afresh, and his cause exposed to shame ; your 
sacred character will become your reproach, and, instead of 
the blessings of many ready to perish, you will accumulate the 
curses of perishing souls upon your head. May your preservation 
from this awful fate be the theme of our future eternal praises. 

" Contemplating the sublimity o? the apostolic pattern, do 
you ask, How shall I attain to such activity, such zeal, such 
purity, such disinterestedness, and ardor of affection ? Remem- 
ber Paul was nothinor. He himself makes the confession. " It 
is not I," says he, " that live, but Christ, that liveth in me; 
and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith on 
the Son of God." Thus you may live ; thus you may come 
off more than a conqueror, and, though in yourself but a worm, 
may thresh the mountains of opposition, and beat them small 
as the dust. Should the blessed Redeemer grant — and grant 
he will, if you seek them — the influences of his Spirit, your hap- 
py soul will mount up as on eagles' wings, and rise to all those 
heights of holy affection, to which the great apostle soared. 
But I must set bounds to the effusion of feelings, which have, 
perhaps, already exhausted the patience of this assembly. Re- 
ceive, my dear son, in one word, the sum of all a father's fond 
wishes : " Be thou faithful unto death." 
10* 



ji^ 



1 14 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER VIII. 

His concern for Jiisjloclc — reverse in his temporal prospects — 
is taken from his work hy sickness. 

The wisdom of God shines with most amiable lustre in the 
institutions of religion. The intelligent and devout observer 
sees in them evident traces of a divine original. They were 
ordained by him who '' knew what was in man," and recog- 
nise most advantageously the leading principles of human 
nature. They have multiplied the relations which subsist 
among men, as social beings, and given to social qualities an 
incalculable value. They cement every tie which binds man 
to his fellow, and sweeten the enjoyments of every connexion. 
They heighten all the endearments of domestic life, and are 
designed and adapted to bring all mankind into one harmoni- 
ous and happy family. Though they do not obliterate the 
distinctions of rank and office, and especially that of a teacher, 
they instruct * the head not to say to the foot, I have no need 
of thee.' In the church of Christ, the most closely-compacted 
ind endearing brotherhood which exists on earth, a common, 
fraternal affection is reciprocated by its members — an affec- 
tion growing out of, and continually cherished by, their mutual 
dependence, their common wants, and the sameness of their 
relation to their Maker and Redeemer. In addition to this, 
there is, in this blood-bought and sacred society, the relation 
of pastor and flock, which swells the aggregate of benefit re- 
ceived and of happiness enjoyed, in proportion to the numbers 
included in it. And when this relation is entered into from 
evangelical motives, and with a right spirit, a gushing forth 
of the affections is felt, which was never felt before — a well- 
spring is opened, which time cannot dry up, and which ren- 
ders the pastor's labor and toil, for the salvation of his charge, 
his choice and his felicity. — Mr. Payson had already exhibited 
an interest in the welfare of souls, and a desire for their salva- 
tion, so great as to seem almost incapable of increase ; but, as 
soon as the pastoral relation was consummated, he regarded 
those committed to his oversight with an appropriating, an 
endearing lovr , which identified their interests and happiness 
with his own. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 115 

"Dec, 17. Was favored with freedom and assistance in 
writing and prayer, and felt a strong love for the people of my 
charge. In the evening, attended a meeting of those who are 
under concern, and had some assistance. 

'*' Dec. 18. Felt in a sweet, dependent frame, and had lib- 
erty to cast myself and parish upon God. 

** Dec. 19. Awoke twice, after a day of excessive fatigue, 
drenched in a profuse sweat, and concluded that my time was 
short. 

''Dec. 20. Sab. Extremely weak. Felt as if I could not 
preach. In the afternoon, preached an occasional sermon, 
and was wonderfully carried through. Blessed be God. 

''Dec. 21. Had a sweet season in prayer. My soul felt 
strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. I longed 
to «^pend and be spent in his service, and wondered at his 
astonishing goodness to such an unworthy wretch. Spent the 
whole day in visiting, with some profit and pleasure. In the 
evening, talked to a number of people on the nature of reli- 
gion. After returning, found myself much exhausted. Feel 
convinced that I am in a consumption, and may as well die as 
cease my exertions.' ' 

His illness continued severe for several days, so that he was 
directed by his physician to keep within. He enjoyed, on the 
whole, much quietness and resignation, but says, " I longed to 
be abroad among my people." Dec. 26, ten days after his or- 
dination, he expectorated blood, and " viewed it as his death- 
warrant, but felt tolerably calm and resigned." Three days 
later, however, he is found preaching an evening lecture. 

The calamities occasioned by the aggressions of foreign 
belligerents, and by the restrictions imposed on commerce by 
our own government, fell at this time with peculiar weight 
upon the inhabitants of Portland. The darkest season through 
which the United States have passed since their independence, 
had now commenced. The distresses of the times are the 
subject of frequent allusion by Mr. Pay son in his diary. The 
stagnation of business, the failures among the principal mer- 
chants, the hundreds of citizens and seamen thrown out of 
employment, and left destitute of the means of subsistence, 
and the sutferings of the poor, called forth largely his sympa- 
thy. To him, the town seemed threatened with universal 
bankruptcy ; and, whether with good reason or not, he con- 
sidered the means of his own temporal support as cut off. But 
the tranquillity of his mind was never more uniform than at 
this calamitous season ; and the object of his supreme desire 



11(5 MEMOIR OF 

and efforts was to turn the distresses of the people to their 
spiritual advantage, rightly judging, that " the walls of Jerusa- 
lem might be built in troublous times." A picture of these 
distresses, as they appeared to him at the time, is drawn in a 
letter to his parents, dated 

'' Portland, Dec. 28, 1807. 

" When father was here, he observed that my prospects w^ere 
almost too happy for this world. They were so, it appears ; 
for they are now as unfavorable, humanly speaking, as they 
were then flattering. The prospect of war has produced here 
such a scene of wretchedness as I never before witnessed. A 
large number of the most wealthy merchants have already 
failed, and numbers more are daily following, so that we are 
threatened with universal bankruptcy. Two failures alone 
have thrown at least three hundred persons, besides sailors, 
out of employ ; and you may hence conceive, in some meas- 
ure, the distress which the whole number must occasion. The 
poor-house is already full, and hundreds are yet to be provided 
for, who have depended on their own labor for daily bread, 
and who have neither the means of supporting themselves 
here, nor of removing into the country. Many, who have been 
brought up in affluence, are now dependent on the cold cour- 
tesy of creditors for a protection from the inclemency of the 
season. These things, however, are but the beginning of 

sorrows. As soon as the news of these failures reach , 

every man there, who has a hundred dollars owing to him in 
Portland, will send down to secure it ; and the general stag- 
nation of business is such, that a man who is possessed often 
thousand dollars, in real or personal estate, may not be able 
to answer a demand of five hundred, though it were to save 
him from ruin. If these times continue, nine tenths of the 
people here v/ill be scattered to the four winds. I have scarce- 
ly a hope of receiving more than enough to pay my board, if 
I should stay till next spring ; and Mr. K. will want all his 
salary to support himself, as he fears that all his property is 
swallowed up in the general destruction. These failures have 
brought to light many instances of dishonesty among those in 
whose integrity unbounded confidence was placed. And now 
all confidence is lost ; no man will trust his neighbor ; but 
every one takes even his brother * by the throat, saying. Pay 
me that thou owest.' But I cannot describe, and I doubt 
whether you can conceive, of the distress we are in. 

" And now you will, perhaps, be grieved at this sudden blast 
of ar. iiy fine prospects, and cry, ' Poor Edward !' But you 



EDWARD PAYSON. |17 

never had more reason to rejoice on my behalf, and to cry, 
* Rich Edward !^ than now ; for, blessed be God, my portion 
does not stand on such tottering foundations as to be shaken 
by these commotions. My dear parents, my dear sister, do 
not feel one emotion of sorrow on my account, but rather join 
with me in blessing God that he keeps me quiet, resigned, and 
even happy, in the midst of these troubles. I do not pretend 
not to feel them, however. All my worldly hopes are, appa- 
rently, destroyed ; and many of those who are now ready to 
be turned into the streets are the dearest friends I have here ; 
not to mention the distress of the poor, w^ho will, in human 
probability, soon be in a starving condition. In these circum- 
stances, it is impossible not to feel. Still, if God is pleased to 
afford me the same degree of support which he has hitherto, I 
shall be more happy than ever I was. I thought I knew, be- 
fore, that this world was treacherous, and its enjoyments tran- 
sitory ; but these thmgs have * taught me this truth so much 
plainer, and weaned me so much more from creature depen- 
dences, that I desire to consider them among my chief mer- 
cies. It has long been my prayer, that if God had any world- 
ly blessings in store for me, he w^ould be pleased to give me 
grace instead of them, or change them into spiritual blessings; 
and now he begins to grant my request. — I am sorry for H.'s 
disappointment, and my ov/n inability to assist pa' out of his 
difficulties, which I once hoped I should be able to do. But 
I trust they will be sanctihed, if they are not removed. What 
a blessed portion the believer has in the word of God, if he 
has only a hand given him to lay hold on it ! But too often 
our hands are withered, and heed not the divine command to 
stretch them out. 

'* I tremble for our poor country. I fear the decree has gone 
out against her. My sins have helped to call down judgments 
upon her, and I desire to take what falls to my share, and bless 
God that my punishment is no heavier, and no more propor- 
tioned to my deserts. But nothing seems too bad to expect 
from present appearances. If we escape civil war, it will be 
well 

'' January 5, 1808. 

" I would not finish my letter before, because I could 



say nothing favorable respecting my health, which was then 
w^orse than ever, but, blessed be God, seems now unaccounta- 
bly restored. — The tumult in town has subsided into a dead 
calm ; the embargo has put a stop to every thing like business, 
and people have now nothing to do but attend to religion ; and 



118 MEMOIR OF 

we endeavor to give them meetings enough, since they have 
leisure to attend them. Next week, we purpose to keep a 
town fast, on account of our distressed situation. "I am not 
without hopes that these things may be overruled to bring 
about a more extensive reformation. The attention appears 
to continue, and we hear of new instances of persons under 
concern. Feel no uneasiness respecting me. The Lord is 
my Shepherd ; I shall not want. The people are very kind, 
increasingly so. Some of our young converts have lost their 
all, and had their houses stripped ; and it does my heart good 
to see them cheerful and quiet under it; while others, who have 
no God, have lost their reason, or, worried almost incessantly, 
are apparently dying of a broken heart, or uttering the most 
bitter and distressing complaints. But it is a heart-rending 
sight to see those who have no other portion stripped naked 
of all worldly good. Their gods are taken away, and what 
have they more ?" 

^^ Jan. 5. I find myself, from day to day, in the situation 
of a poor beggar, with nothing to plead but my necessities. 
In the evening, preached to a serious audience, and was great- 
ly encouraged to hope for a reformation more general. Was 
much drawn out in prayer, both at meeting and after 1 came 
home. 

^^ Jan. 6. Hope that God is quickening me to run the way 
of his commandments with a more enlarged heart. 

'^ Jan. 10. Preached, and baptized seven persons, and ad- 
ministered the sacrament. Felt entirely exhausted. My con- 
stitution seems to be much broken, and a little labor wears 
me out. 

^^ Jan. 13. This day was devoted to fasting and prayer, by 
the town, on account of the present gloomy appearances. 

^^ Jan. 14. Hope the strong workings of corruption I have 
experienced will make me more humble, and the gracious par- 
don I have received, more thankful. 

'^ Jan. 17. Sab. Was alarmed by cry of fire during family 
prayer. It did considerable damage, but, by God's goodness, 
was got under, though the town was in imminent danger. 
Was nmch assisted in seeking a divine blessing on all our 
afflictions. Had no meeting in the forenoon. In the after- 
noon, preached with some liberty. 

^^ Jan. 22. In the evening, preached, and was much re- 
freshed and strengthened in my own soul. Found the Lord's 
work is going on. O what shall I render unto the Lord for 
ah his ben^/its ! 



EDWARD PAYSON. ||9 

** Jan. 24. Sab. Was favored with a sweet season in plead- 
ing for the divine presence. Hoped that God would make this 
a day of his power and grace. Was greatly assisted. Have 
lately been favored with more love to God, and zeal for Christ, 
than I used to have, and feel more compassion for sinners. 

^^Jan. 25. Seem to have some respite from the workings 
of corruption. Spent the day in visiting my people, and found 
many somewhat exercised. In the evening, attended a confer- 
ence with inquirers. Found some new cases, and had a pleasant 
evening. 

" J««. 26. Felt eager desires to be wholly conformed to 
Christ, and to be carried away with the constraining influence 
of his love. 

** Feb, 4. Was overwhelmed with wonder, shame, and con- 
fusion, to reflect on the innumerable mercies I had received, 
and the ungrateful returns I had made. In the afternoon, 
preached at the poor-house, and found some of them much 
aflected." 

Soon after this, he was seized with a violent pleuritic affec- 
tion, which rendered speaking a most painful and difficult ex- 
ercise. The pain continued for some length of time, attended 
by various discouraging symptoms. He did not neglect to call 
in medical aid ; and the prescriptions of physicians were par- 
tially blessed. But the moment he felt a little relieved, he 
would resume his labors, * go to a conference, take more cold, 
and come home much worse.' Repeatedly during this illness, 
when he was necessarily confined to his room, he enters a 
notice of this kind — " Spent almost the whole day in convers- 
ing with persons who were exercised with spiritual trials;" 
and every such day was one of great fatigue, at the close of 
which * all his alarming symptoms would return with great vio- 
lence.' When his conversation with inquirers was not pro- 
longed to weariness, it proved * refreshing to his spirits.' 
Though he found it * trying to be laid aside as a broken vessel, 
when the people were willing to hear,' he could still bless God 
for sweet resignation to the divine will. "Could not feel a 
wish respecting the continuance of my life ; but had God re- 
ferred the matter to me, I should refer it back again to him. 
My only wish was — if I lived — to live unto the Lord ; and, if 
I died, to die unto the Lord." 

In the latter part of February, his physician found it neces- 
sary to forbid his preaching for several Sabbaths to come, and 
was in a measure successful in enforcing the prohibition, as 
his patient does not appear to have gone out to any religious 



120 MEMOIR OF 

meeting for more than a fortnight, when he ventured to * at- 
tend a conference with those under concern, where he found 
several new inquirers, and was carried through beyond expec- 
tation.' But the exposure was followed by a dangerous relapse, 
so that he thought his " health irrecoverably gone." He ex- 
presses no " grief on this account, except as it * disabled him 
from attending meeting with those under concern.' — But the 
reader will prefer to learn his feelings and circumstances frpm 
hip own words : — 

" March 26. Had an ex<:eedingly painful night, worse than 
ever, but had some satisfaction in thinking of going to be with 
Christ. In the evening, was extremely unwell, and suffered 
great pain. 

^' March 27. Sab. In the morning, was very ill ; but was 
carried to meeting in the afternoon, though I could not preach. 
Was too weak to have much comfort at meeting, and came 
home very low-spirited. 

^^ March 28. Am pretty well convinced that my disease is 
mortal. My mind partakes so much of the weakness of my 
body, that I can do nothing in religion, and can scarcely refrain 
from peevishness and fretting. 

" March 30. Had a most sweet and refreshing season in 
secret prayer this morning. Felt more ardent love to Christ 
than I have for some time, and was sw^eetly melted under a 
sense of my ingratitude. Was resigned to his v*^ill respect- 
ing me, and was willing to depart and be with him. 

'^ Aprils. Conversed with some persons, who came in to 
see me, respecting means to be taken for the suppression of 
profanity and Sabbath breaking. 

'* April 3. Sab. Was able to attend meeting and preach 
part of the day. Was favored with some liberty at the sacra- 
ment, and had some foretaste of heaven, and desire to enjoy it. 
Am much afraid the reformation is going off. Was assisted 
to pray that the work might go on, and also in praying for 
myself, so that I hope the Lord has been pleased to strengthen 
me on this occasion. 

** April 4. Had unusual earnestness in prayer this morning, 
both for myself and others, and was sweetly melted in reading 
the divine word. Was depressed by finding that the town 
would do nothing respecting the observance of the Sabbath. 
Was enabled to pour out my sorrows and complaints before 
God with some degree of freedom. 

** April 7. This day being our annual fast, I endeavored 
to humble mvself before God for my personal sins, as well as 



EDWARD PAYSON. 121 

»ur public transgressions, to renew covenant with God, and 
devote myself with new zeal to his service. Was likewise 
assisted in pleading with God for more grace, and life, and 
light, in my own soul, and in the souls of my people ; and that 
the reformation which has begun may be carried on gloriously 
and triumphantly among us. In the morning, attended meet- 
ing, and heard a most excellent sermon from Mr. K. In the 
afternoon, preached with some degree of assistance. 

" April 8. Had a very uncomfortable night, but was sweet- 
ly refreshed and strengthened in secret prayer this morning. 
It is long since I have found so much of the divine presence. 
Was much assisted in praying for a revival of religion, and 
cannot but hope God will yet bless us still more abundantly. 

*' April 9. Was employed most of the day in visiting. Was 
troubled with some who wished to join the church without be- 
ing qualified. 

** April 14. Attended a conference for those under con- 
cern, and was refreshed to see a goodly number, and to trace 
the operations of the divine Spirit upon their minds. 

" April 15. Was so oppressed with a sense of vileness, that 
it seemed impossible for me to come ; and had such a sight of 
God's goodness, that it was impossible for me not to come. 

" April 19. O, how sweet and refreshing it is to get above 
the load of sins, sorrows, and corruptions, which oppress us, 
and taste a little of communion with God ! 

" April 20. Was strengthened with all might in the inner 
man, and enabled to renew covenant with God with great joy 
and sincerity. 

" April 21. I have long been in a lethargy, but I trust God 
is now bringing me out of it. Find great and unusual sweet- 
ness in the Bible, of late, for which I have long been praying ; 
and likewise a deeper sense of the importance of time, — anoth- 
er blessing for which I have long been seeking. The enemy, 
taking advantage of my great weakness, threw me into a most 
sinful frame of mind ; but, on application to him who stills the 
waves, the tumult of my mind was stilled, and there was a great 
calm. 

" April 22. Was favored with some intense hungerings and 
thirstings after righteousness. Was led to believe, from certain 
circumstances, that my case was almost desperate, but felt most 
sweetly resigned. My only wish was that God might be glori- 
fied, either by my life or death. 

" April 23. Was assisted in prayer through the day. My 
heart seemed ready to break with its longings after holiness. 
Found unusual sweetness in reading the Scriptures. Am much 
11 



12«J MEMOIR OF 

encouraged by the Lord's unusual goodness to me, that he if 
about to carry on his work still more gloriously in this place. 

" April 25. Was constrained to feel the truth of our Lord's 
declaration, * Without me ye can do nothing.' " 

The following paragraphs from letters written during this 
spring will not be uninteresting : — 

^'Portland, March 28, 1808. 
"My DEAREST Mother, 

*' The Sabbath after I wrote to Grata, I preached, as I ex- 
pected ; but it proved too much for me, and I have not preach- 
ed since, nor do I expect to till the weather grows warmer. 
Meanwhile the attention to religion seems to be at a stand, and 
whether it will not wholly subside, is more than we can tell. 
I need not say that this is a trial ; but, blessed be God, he makes 
it lighter than I could have thought possible. It is true I have 
not much sensible or positive comfort ; but I am kept perfectly 
quiet and resigned, and can hardly find whether 1 have any 
will or not. Should my health not be perfectly re-established 
before w^arm weather, I shall probably make a journey home. 
The people are abundantly kind, and suffer me to want for 
nothing which they can supply. Mr. K. is as kind to me as 
the parish, and, though he is almost overwhelmed with labor, 
yet he will not suffer me to expose myself in the least. 

^* Now, after enumerating all these mercies, you will con- 
clude, of course, that I am all wonder and gratitude, and that 
the constant language of my heart is, * What shall I render 
unto the Lord for all his benefits V That I ought to be so, I 
am very sensible ; but, alas, how far from it I am in reality ! I 
do indeed feel some wonder how God can be so good ; such a 
kind of wonder as we feel when thinking of his eternity or in- 
finite power ; but as to gratitude, I hardly know by experience 
what it means. I once used to think that I did feel grateful, 
when I had not half the reason for it which I now have ; but 
I have done thinking so. I have done trying to praise God 
for his mercies. All we can do falls so far short of what we 
owe, that it seems little better than mockery to thank him in 
our feeble language, and I can only stand in stupid astonish- 
ment to see how good he will be notwithstanding all I can do 
to prevent it. O, how true it is, that he will have mercy on 
whom he will have mercy ! I can hardly help praying, some- 
times, that he would take away all he has bestowed, so that, 
if I must sin, I need not sin against such overwhelming good- 
p 2S8 But it is as natural for him to be good and kind, as it is 



EDWARD FAYSON. 123 

ibr us to abuse his goodness ; and sooner shall our wicked 
hearts cease to sin, than he cease to pardon and forgive sin. 



*' The embargo, humanly speaking, will be detrimental to 
the morals of the people here. They have now nothing to do 
but saunter about, and then, of course, they get into all man- 
ner of mischief; and I fear they will lose all habits of industry 
and sobriety. However, if I have any health, we shall en- 
deavor to multiply meetings, and take up as much of their time 
as possible in that way." 

''Portland, April 18, 1808. 

'* Yes, my dearest mother, I did think of my friends at 
Rindge, when I apprehended I was about to leave them. They 
were almost, if not altogether, the only things that I felt the 
least regret at the idea of quitting ; but that regret was allevia- 
ted, if not wholly removed, by the consoling hope, that I should 
soon meet them again, to be separated no more. But, my 
dear mother, why this anxiety ? If I wished for life, it would 
distress me exceedingly to see you thus anxious, because I 
should fear it would lead God to remove from you one for whom 
you indulge so much concern. I shall certainly live as long 
as I have any thing to do for the divine glory ; for ' we are 
immortal till our work is done ;' and you, surely, could not 
wish me to live after that is accomplished. Ever since I have 
entertained a comfortable hope of my acceptance in the Belov- 
ed, it has been my constant wish, that what I had to do might 
be done speedily ; and if God should see fit to grant this wish, 
will it not be better than if I should be a long time in perform- 
ing the work allotted, and drag on a wearisome life to no pur- 
pose ? It was my great consolation, while taken olF from ac- 
tive service, and laid aside as a broken vessel and a foot out of 
joint, that we may glorify God as much by patiently suffering, 
as by actively doing his will ; and I hope this consolation will 
be yours, should he see fit to appoint me a life of weakness, 
pain, and suffering, or remove me first from this state of trial. 
It is a striking proof of our depravity, that when God favors us 
with special mercies, he sees it necessary to send special afflic- 
tions, to teach us our dependence and keep us humble. Could 
I have continued suitably humble and thankful under the mer- 
cies I have lately received with respect to my settlement here, 
and the out-pourings of the Spirit, he never would have frustra- 
ted, first, my temporal prospects, and aflerwards, by sickness, 
as it we « cast me out of his vineyard, as an unworthy and an 



124 MEMOIR OF 

unfaithful laborer. But I not only deserved, but indispensably 
needed, all that has befallen me ; and I desire to bless him for 
these afflictions, by which, when my roots began to shoot into 
and cleave to the earth, he plucked them up before they were 
too deeply and firmly fixed, and thus experimentally taught me 
not to look for or expect any happiness beyond that of serving 
him here, but to wait for my reward in another world ; a lesson 
of infinite importance, and which I greatly needed. But it is 
a lesson so hard for us, or at least for me, to learn, that 1 well 
foresee, if I am continued here any length of time, it will be 
necessary for God to impress it upon my mind again and again 
by repeated and multiplied disappointments. My disposition 
is naturally so ardent, that I can enjoy nothing with modera- 
tion, so that I must either be totally indifferent to worldly ob- 
jects, or else love them to such a degree, as to render them 
idols ; and then, of course, God must and will either imbitter 
or remove them. It is evident, therefore, that I must not 
expect worldly happiness ; for perfect indifference to any object, 
or too much love for it, are equally incompatible with happi- 
ness ; and these are the only two states of which I am capable. 
For this reason I fear ever to enter the marriage state, for I 
should most certainly love a wife too much or too little. I 
know not, however, whether I ought to regret this trait in 
my character, since, by cutting me off from other sources, it 
does, as it were, necessarily drive me to One whom I cannot 
love or serve too much, and compel me to place all my hopes 
in a future state. 

Since you complain that I did not tell you what my sickness 
has been, I will now inform you, lest you should suppose it 
worse than it was. It was an inflammation of the lungs and ad- 
joining parts, attended for several weeks with extreme debility, 
sharp pain, restlessness, loss of appetite, difficulty of breathing, 
and an inability to converse for any time together. I should, 
I believe, have easily got over it, but I continued my labors 
much too long, hoping I should be able to drag along till warm 
weather, which, I trusted, would restore me. But after sacra- 
ment, when, by reason of the length of the services, I was so 
exhausted that I could scarcely sit in my chair, I was obliged 
to go out in a cold, raw evening, to converse and pray with a 
dying sailor, who had just found out that he had a soul to save. 
The next day was a violent storm, in which I imprudently went 
out to visit some sick persons, and, the day following, was 
seized with a sharp pleuritic pain in my side. However, as it 
was lecture night, I was obliged to preach, which I got through 
wi'.h much pain and some difficultv, but was then constrained 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



125 



to give up. Still I believe my confinement would have been 
much shorter, had not persons continued to come and converse 
with me, who were under concern. I could not find it in my 
heart to send them away, and the temporary exhilaration of 
spirits, which seeing them gave me, prevented me fi-om finding 
out at first how much talking injured me, so that, for a long 
time, I lost much faster than I gained. But the sun seems to 
be a physician superior to all the doctors, and his warm beams, 
under God, have in a good measure restored me. 

^ Thus hiave I spent my health — an odious trick — 
In making known how oft 1 have been sick/ 

But if your patience is wearied, you must ascribe it to your 
own request, without which I should not have said a syllable 
on the subject." 

The *' inflammation," he observes in another letter, " was 
brought on, by speaking in hot rooms, and then going out into 
the cold evening air." His illness proved, on the whole, a seri- 
ous one ; and he was obliged not only to suspend preaching, 
but to leave the scene of his labors, before he could obtain 
relief On the 27th of April, he set out for his father's house, 
to try the effect of a journey and a country residence on his 
health. * In crossing a stream, whose bridge had been carried 
away, he was thrown fi-om his horse, and thoroughly wet, so 
that he could proceed no farther.' The next day, * after rid- 
ing about ten miles, he was seized with the symptoms of a vio- 
lent fever, and obliged to stop, and take his bed.' The third 
day, he pursued his journey moderately, but ' in much pain and 
weakness, fearing that his lungs had been much injured by his 
late accident.' Before night of the fourth day, he * was ex- 
tremely exhausted.' '* Find that a fever comes on at night, 
and goes off with sweats in the morning." The next day was 
the Sabbath, which he spent in Mil ford, ^ weak in body and 
mind. After meeting, which he attended both parts of the 
day, had some conversatio-n with a Universalist, but to little 
purpose.' " May 2. Reached home, and was most kindly 
received. After the flow of spirits, occasioned by seeing friends, 
was over, found myself much exhausted with my journey." 
' For several days after his arrival, he grew worse, till he ' lost 
ail strength and appetite,' and was taken with a ' hectic fever,' 
as was then supposed, " attended with night sweats and some 
cough. He gave up all hope of recovering, and felt willing to 
die ; ha'! no murmuring thought." 
11* 



126 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER IX. 

Resumes his pastoral labors — Letters — Review of the year, 

Mr. Payson's absence from his people was prolonged to a 
period of more than two months,. During this time, he un- 
derwent much bodily suifering ; but his resignation, and his 
demeanor generally, were such as became a man professing 
godliness. He obtained no relief, till near the close of this 
period, when he repaired to Boston for medical advice, by 
which he was encouraged to hope that he might again engage 
in preaching the gospel. His church observed a day of fast- 
ing and prayer on his account during his absence. He set 
out on his return to them, July 4th, not without *' gloomy, mel- 
ancholy fears. The work appeared great, the obstacles insur- 
mountable, and his strength nothing." Most of the informa- 
tion, which could be collected respecting his circumstances 
for several succeeding months, is contained in letters, that 
were written to his parents and sister. 

^' Portland, Wednesday Evenings Juhj 6, 1808. 
''My dearest Parents, 

*^ When you see where and 2vhen this letter is dated, you 
will, I fear, be ready to exclaim, *^ Imprudent boy ! why will 
he not learn wisdom by experience ?" But when you hear 
that no ill consequences have resulted from my haste, you will, 
I hope, pardon me. The truth is, when I got beyond the 
reach of the attraction of Rindge, which was not very soon, 
Portland began to draw with such irresistible fOrce, that I 
found there would be no peace for me till I reached it. So, 
maugre my lame horse, who grew lamer and lamer every hour, 
I pressed on, and arrived here about six this afternoon. How it 
will be to-morrow, I cannot tell ; but, at present, I am perfectly 
well, and never was less fatigued by a journey in my life. Mr. 
K. is out of town, attending an association, and my host, with 
his wife, is absent on a visit ; so as yet I have seen nobody. 

'' Thursday Mom. 

" The cowd of anxious and interesting thoughts which en- 
gaged my n^ind on my return would not suffer me to rest 



EDWARD PAYSON, 127 

much last night, and of course I feel rather languid this morn- 
ing. Still, however, I never felt less inconvenience from such 
a journey. Mr. K. has just left me. He gives a discouraging 
account of the situation of religion. Several, whose convic- 
tions appeared to be of the right kind, have apparently lost 
them, and a general coldness seems to be prevailing. 

" Thursday Night. 

" Perhaps you saw lately an account of a man w^ho was tried 
here for murder. He was found guilty, and is now in the 
condemned hole. I went this afternoon to visit him, and was 
greatly shocked and afflicted by a view of the bolts, chains, 
and other guards against escape. The entrance to his dun- 
geon was by a small square hole, through which I could but 
just crawl by stooping double, and it was secured by a very 
thick door of solid iron. It was, however, sufficiently light, 
sweet, and free from dampness. The criminal is a young, 
stout, well-looking man, as far removed as possible from the 
idea one is ready to form of a murderer. He said he felt guil- 
ty and self-condemned before God, and felt the need of a Sa- 
viour, and of a new heart, but knew not how to procure either 
of them. But he said this in a cold, unfeeling way. I shall 
see him again soon, for my own sake, as well as his. It is 
well calculated to make one admire and adore distinguishing 
grace, which has kept us from the same crimes, to see a man, 
in the flower of life, shut up in a small dungeon, never to go 
out till he goes to a violent and ignominious death. — In the 
evening, I went to our meeting for those under concern. This 
is still kept up, though very few attend, and they seem little 
engaged. 

'^ Friday. 

" I have been trying the effect of sea-bathing. It was not 
a very favorable time, but I feel better for it, and shall repeat 
it daily. I have spent some time in going round among the 
people. They appear glad to see me ; but, alas ! I fear there 
are no hopes of any further reformation at present. Many, 
whom I left under deep concern, have lost all their impres- 
sions ; others are cold ; Christians seem to be discouraged. 
Though I expected this, it is almost too much for me to bear. 
I am dispirited and dejected : my very soul sickens and 
shrinks back from what is before me. Weakened by sick- 
ness, my mind seems to have lost, at once, all faith and forti- 
tude. I have no assistance in writing. My ideas are all con- 
fused. I seem to have no power to get hold of people's con- 



128 IVIEMOIR OF 

sciences, but, as somebody expresses it, ^^ my intellects have 
got mittens on.'' 

'^ Sunday Evening. 

" I preached to-day, and felt pretty much as I expected. 
No life — people stupid. I shall get hardened to these things 
soon ; but at present they are distressing indeed. But though 
I am perplexed, I am not utterly in despair ; though cast down, 
I am not destroyed. Somehow or other, I shall be carried 
through. As to my health, I have little leisure to think of it 
amidst the more interesting things which oppress me. I be- 
lieve, however, I shall suffer but little inconvenience from 
speaking to-day." 

" Portland, July 16; 1808. 
'* My DEAR Sister, 

" I know not why it v/as, but I never felt more pain at leav- 
ing home, since I first began to venture abroad, than when I 
left Rindge for Portland. I rode in a very melancholy mood 
all day, and seldom have I felt more unpleasantly. This, you 
will say, was but an ungrateful return to my heavenly Father, 
for his goodness ; but, though I felt sensible that it was, I could 
not alter the course of my feelings. My mind had become so 
tender by being accustomed to kindness and attention, that it 
seemed to shrink from every thing like coldness ; and it was 
in vain to expect that kindness from others, which I experi- 
enced from parental and sisterly affection at home. The diffi- 
culties, too, of the ministry, were all before me. Like Peter, 
I looked only at the waves and billows, forgetting the almigh- 
ty arm that was extended for my support ; and, consequently, 
like him, I sunk in the depths of despondency. Nor is the 
prospect, now I am here, calculated to cheer me. Iniquities 
abound ; the love of many is waxen cold ; the enemy seems 
coming in as a flood ; the Spirit of the Lord no longer lifts up 
a standard against him ; and I, what can I do "l What is 
worst of all, is, that many are ready to think, that, because I 
am returned, religion will revive. This sickens and discour- 
ages my very soul ; for I know, assuredly, that, while this is 
the case, my labors will be utterly unsuccessful. This shows, 
too, that they have not learnt, by my sickness, what God 
meant they should learn, and will bring a blast upon me and 
my exertions. Still, however, blessed be God, he does not 
suffer me utterly to despair. That text, " Fear thou not, for 
I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am thy God : I will 
strengthen thee ; yea, I will help thee ; yea, I will uphold thee 
with the right hand of my righteousness" — never fails to bring 
relief even i i the darkest hours. In addition to this, 1 find 



EDWARD PAYSON. Jgg 

some relief in conversing with those who were taken into the 
church before I left them, most of whom seem to be humble, 
growing Christians ; so that I have still abundant reason to be 
thankful ; but, alas ! I cannot. You, my sister, never will 
know what it is to attempt to go through the duties of the 
ministry without God. I stagger along under the burden, 
like those poor travellers, who were cast away in the deserts 
of Arabia, ready every step to sink under it ; but when it 
seems as if I could not take another step, but must lie down 
and die, some spring opens to my view, and I get strength and 
courage to drag along a little farther. — But enough of this 
melancholy strain. 

" My health continues to improve rapidly, and I am almost 
perfectly well. Mr. R. preaches here next Sabbath, on an ex- 
change with Mr. K., who goes to administer the sacrament at 
Gorham. He is much liked ; they are, I believe, unanimous, 
or nearly so, in his favor, and would settle him off hand, had 
they not written to a Mr. B. previous to Mr. R.'s coming. 
They think they are bound in honor to hear Mr. B., and 
Mr. R. feels a little delicate about staying, under these cir- 
cumstances. 

'' I mentioned, I believe, in my last letter, that there was a 
criminal here, under sentence of death for murder. He was 
executed to-day, and I have strong hopes he died a sincere 
penitent. But the circumstances are too long for a letter. 

" My health continues to improve with respect to the diffi- 
culties in my breast ; but I am so oppressed w ith melancholy 
that life is a burthen. I was to have preached a sermon at 
the execution I have just mentioned ; and, though I did not 
feel able to write, I endeavored to force myself to it. But a 
melancholy mind will not be forced, and I found, that, if I did 
not desist, I should be distracted. On the other hand, the idea 
that such an opportunity of doing good should be lost, drove 
me back to fresh endeavors. The misery I have endured for 
three days is inconceivable, and has made me quite sick. It 
seemed as if I would willingly have been hanged in his place, 
rather than feel as I did. I can more easily believe that all 
other things work together for good, than that melancholy 
does. It appears to be full of evil, and to be productive of no 
manner of good either to myself or others. But it shall not 
cause you any more uneasiness at present, for I will bid you 
adieu, till I am in better humor. Remember me to all 
friends ; ask my father and mother to write to and pray for me. 
I wDuld give up preaching, if I dared ; but "wo is me, if I 



ISO MEMOIR OF 

preach not the gospel.'' Farewell — and may you never know, 
by experience, the present feelings of 

** Your affectionate, though unhappy brother." 

^' Portland^ August 3, 1808. 
'' My dearest Parents, 

" I had almost resolved not to write again till I received 
letters from home, which I have been looking for with much 
impatience and some hard thoughts ; but, lest you should im- 
pute my silence to a wrong cause, I will put an end to it for 
the present, and tell you that I am gradually growing better, 
and am, in a manner, perfectly well. I preach in all weath- 
ers, and at all hours, without much, if any, inconvenience ; 
and still gain strength notwithstanding ; and the people say 
that I speak now as loud and strong as ever, though I did not 
when I first came back. I have also thrown off my melan- 
choly fits, and am as cheerful as ever. The state of religion, 
however, is not such as I could wish. 

" I preached, last Sabbath, on man's depravity, and attempt- 
ed to show, that, by nature, man is, in stupidity and insensi- 
bility, a block ; in sensuality and sottishness, a beast ; and in 
pride, malice, cruelty, and treachery, a devil. This set the 
whole town in an uproar, and never was such a racket made 
about any poor sermon ; it is perfectly inconceivable to any 
who have not seen it. But I cannot help hoping, that, amidst 
all this smoke, there may be some latent sparks, which will 
burst out into a blaze. We had a lecture, last evening, in the 
meeting-house, which was much more crowded than any we 
ever had before. However, our fears are, as yet, much greater 
than our hopes. 

'* Mr. K. is like to lose his youngest child, and his oldest is 
quite sick. He is also slandered and abused beyond all meas- 
ure. Yet he bears all these trials in a manner which is sur- 
prising. He is less gay, but scarcely less cheerful, than usual ; 
nor would any one suspect, from his appearance, that he was 
suffering in body, friends, or estate. ,The embargo causes us 
much uneasiness, though not more than was to be expected. 
But I tremble to think of next winter ; for the poor will suffer 
incalculably, both for want of provisions and fuel." 

The sermon alluded to in this letter is probably one which 
he preached from John viii. 44, and which is still remem- 
bered with lively impression by some of the hearers, whose ac- 
count of its effects amply sustains his own description. In the 
course of the following week, there might be heard one man 



EDWARD PAYSON. 131 

hailing another in the street as '* brother devil !" This, com- 
ing to Mr. Pay son's ears, so far from being regarded as a cir- 
cumstance of discouragement, inspired him with the hope that 
good would ultimately result from it — a hope which the event 
justified; for some of these "brave spirits" were afterwards 
humbled at the foot of the cross. His description of the " nat- 
ural man'* is given in terms which he repeatedly applies to 
himself in his private journal ; and their application to the 
species was made in the fulness of an honest heart. They 
show, too, that he was not indebted to flattery for any part of 
his popularity. Still, such a representation of the subject is 
of questionable propriety, and, from another preacher, might 
have been productive of none but evil consequences. And yet 
some young, rash, ignorant ministers will be more emulous to 
copy this, than any other trait in his preaching. After letting 
off a volley of harsh, impertinent, bitter, and extravagant epi- 
thets, with a heart as callous as that which they describe, they 
will flatter themselves that they have been signally faithful, and 
are "just like Dr. Payson !" But they mistake his character, 
as well as their own. His severest expressions were uttered 
with the moving tenderness of a heart that yearned over the 
guilt and impending misery of his fellow-men. The wounds 
he inflicted were "the wounds of a friend." Those on whom 
his strokes fell with deadliest effect, could not but feel that be- 
nevolence aimed the blow. 

'^ August 10. 

" I have just received your letter, my dear mother, and will 
now put an end to mine, which a press of duty had made me 
lay by. Mr. K.'s child is dead, and that has thrown a great 
deal of business upon my hands. He is going a journey soon, 
and I must finish visiting the people before he goes, as I shall 
have no time afterwards. Your letter afforded me some com- 
fort at a time when I needed it. We have lost all hopes of 
any more attention, at present, and I am in some measure 
reconciled to it ; for if a revival should take place immediately 
after my return, people would not give God the glory. The 
opposition grows more and more bitter ; every mouth seems to 
be opened to revile, and Christians, instead of supporting me, 
seem to think that it will not do to tell the whole truth, lest 
the world should be too much offended. I was prone to trust 
to Christians, and think that, though all should be offended, 
yet they would not ; but I find it will not do to put trust in 
man, however good he may be. Even Christians had much 
rather hear of their privileges, their good estate, and the hap- 
pine'JS prepared for them, than be told plainly how defective 



132 MEMOIR OF 

they are, and urged to greater diligence, zeal, and fidelity. I 
think, sometimes, that all the service I shall do the church 
will be to change them from legal to evangelical hypocrites ; 
for they have now got their cue, and, instead of saying that 
they do all they can, and hope Christ will do the rest, they are 
all complaining, like Mrs. *********^ what dreadful vile crea- 
tures they are, and smile all the time. 

" However, there are some who make these complaints in a 
different manner, and who appear really to groan under a body 
of sin and death. One person, who was esteemed by Mr. K. 
and the whole church, and by myself too, not only a Christian, 
but a very eminent one, of whose religion I had not the least 
doubt, and who appeared to be very humble and broken-heart- 
ed, and, in short, to be every thing we could wish, has discov- 
ered that she was building on the sand. She had been a pro- 
fessor some time, but had never heard of or suspected the 
difference between holy and selfish love, and is now fully 
convinced that all her love was of the latter kind. As she 
possesses good sense and information, the accounts she gives 
of her experiences, while destitute of religion, are very profit- 
able, and open new ways in which persons may be deceived, 
of which I had scarcely any conception. 

** I did not intend to say a word of myself, but I cannot 
write or think on any thing else. I am crushed down, not 
only into the dust, but below the dust, so that it seems, at 
times, as if I must perish. I am obliged to go into the pulpit, 
to pray and preach, with my mind full of horrid thoughts, so 
that I totally forget what I was going to say, and am forced to 
stop short. From this one sample, of which, however, you 
cannot know the bitterness, unless you had been forced to 
preach in that situation, you may judge of the rest. Yet I 
know it is all for the best. It teaches me, I hope, to give the 
glory more to God, when I feel better. Now it seems as 
strange, if a good thought or desire rises for a moment in my 
mind, as it would be to find a diamond upon a dunghill, or to 
see a gleam of sunshine in a dark night. I know it cannot 
be the product of my heart, but must come from some other 
source ; and to that source I wish to refer it." 

" Portlaiid, September 8, 1808. 
"My dearest Parents, 

'* Last Sabbath, I preached all day, administered the sacra- 
ment, catechised the children, and spent the evening in con- 
versation ; and yet, instead of being laid up, as I feared, I am 
fiill as well, if not better, than before. Things still remain 



EDWARD PAYSON. I33 

pietty much as they were. A great many seem to be some- 
what alarmed, but I see none of those deep convictions of sin 
which I used to see ; it is only the mere workings of natural 
fear. Two persons, however, who had entirely lost their con- 
victions, have had them return more strongly than ever ; so 
that we are not entirely deserted. People seem to be a little 
better reconciled to the truth, and several, who threatened to 
leave the parish, still remain quiet; but whether their quiet- 
ness proceeds from mere stupidity, or from a conviction of the 
truth, I know not. The church seem to feel the general daad- 
ness ; and, as to myself, I seem palsied to all good, though 
pride, or selfishness, or habit, still keeps me in motion. I have 
had far more distressing experience of the dreadful depravity 
of my nature, since I left home, than ever before. O the 
heights and depths, the lengths and breadths, of wickedness, 
in the depraved heart! If complaining to man was of service, 
what a torrent of complaint could I pour out ! But it wiH not 
avail. 

''Sept. 14. 

** Mr. C, a young gentleman of independent fortune, is now 
preaching in the old parish. He has been studying divinity 
in Scotland, and preaches the doctrines of the gospel in a 
clear, distinguishing manner. As his sentiments were known 
before he came, every thing was said, to take off the effect of 
his preaching, which could be said. They cannot, however,, 
accuse him of interested motives in preaching ; and, as he. i^ 
quite a gentleman in his manners, I hope he will lessen the , 
prejudices of some of his fashionable hearers against the gospel. 

" We have had three additions to the church, since my re- 
turn, of persons who gave very satisfactory evidence ; and there 
are a few other gleanings of our late harvest, that are not yet 
gathered in ; but, otherwise, we are in a most stupid state. 
If I now and then feel a spark of life, the moment I go abroad 
among my people, it goes out, and I always come home quite 
discouraged. I cannot feel thankful as I ought for health 
restored. 

" Oct. 10. 
" Mr. K. comes back this week, and my hard .duty is over 
without any ill consequences. I have had some relief, of late, 
from Mr..C.'s being, here, at the old parish, and preaching such 
doctrine as I do." 

In the following letter to his mother is a most vivid sketch 
of the workings of his mind in his hours of discouragement, 
12 



134 MEMOIR OF 

as well as of those considerations by which he was assisted to 
rise above it. It will be read with thrilling interest : — 

'* Portland, Oc^ 26, 1808. 
'' My dearest Mother, 

" I have just received your letter of the 19th, and, like all 
your letters, it came just in the right time, when I needed it 
most, — when I was sinking, fainting under discouragements 
and difficulties. I feel the force of all you say. I know I 
have every reason in the world to feel grateful ; but this knowl 
edge only renders me more unhappy, that I cannot feel it 
Gratitude is a plant that my heart will never produce, only 
when Heaven is pleased to place it there ; and whether I shall 
ever exercise one emotion of it again, seems doubtful. 

" God is showing me what is in my heart in a ten-fold clearer 
light than ever before ; and though I know he does it to hum- 
ble and prove me, that he may do me good in the latter end ; 
yet, while he permits, my mind will be like the troubled sea, 
which cannot rest, whose w^aters cast up mire and dirt ; and 
I can no more still it than I can still the elements. I know 
how I ought to feel, and I know how wrong it is to feel as I 
do ; but that does not help me to feel otherwise. I know that 
I am every thing that is bad summed up in one, and that I 
deserve, ten thousand times over, the hottest place in hell ; but 
till God shall be pleased to melt my heart by the returning 
beams of his love, this sight of sin only hardens my heart, and 
sinks it down in sullen indolence and despair. I well remem- 
ber those delightful seasons you mention ; but I remember 
them as Satan does the happiness of heaven, which he has 
lost. I cannot help being sorry that I ever recovered, * * * 
* * * though I see, as clear as the light of day, how devilish, 
and cowardly, and base, and ungrateful, such a temper is. I 
loathe and detest myself for having such a temper, and know 
that my inability to restrain it, instead of being any excuse, 
only renders me utterly inexcusable. I know, too, that all this 
is necessary for my good. I know Christ is near me, though 
I cannot perceive him ; and that, in his own time, which will 
be the best time, he will pluck me out of this terrible deep 
pit, and set my feet on a rock. But this knowledge does not 
prevent my being tossed hither and thither, before the blast of 
temptation, like a leaf before a whirlwind. Meanwhile, I have 
nowhere to look for comfort, either in heaven or earth. My 
prayer seems to be shut out, though in reality I know it is not. 
My people are raving about my hard doctrine ; my friends 
seera to stand aloof, my health begins to decline, religion de- 



EDWARD PAYSON. I35 

caying, and all hell broke loose within me. While this 
is the case, what can reasoning or arguments avail ? Who 
but he who caused light to shine out of darkness, can 
bring light and order out of the darkness and chaos of my 
soul? 

" Your hopes with respect to Mr. C. are frustrated. Not- 
withstanding he combined almost every advantage, such as 
being independent in property, eloquent, polished in his man- 
ners, &LC. &/C., he had only thirty /br, to ninety against him. 
Mr. R. has a unanimous call at Gorham ; but he feels afraid 
to settle, because he is not qualified. I tell him to settle by 
all means ; for, if he waits a little longer, he never will feel 
qualified to settle at all. If I had waited till this time, I sure- 
ly should never have been a minister. I should give up now, 
but, whenever I think of it, something seems to say, * What 
are you going to give up for ? Supposing you are a poor, mis- 
erable, blind, weak, stupid worm of the dust, with mountains 
of opposition before you, — is that any reason for discourage- 
ment ? Have you yet to learn, that God has chosen the weak 
things of the world to confound the mighty, and that, if you 
had the talents of an angel, you could do nothing without his 
assistance ? Has he not already helped you beyond all you 
dared ask or think ; and has not he promised to help you in 
future ? What then would you, poor, weak, stupid, cowardly 
fool, have more ? — what do you keep murmuring about all the 
time ? Why don't you glory in your infirmities, that the power 
of Christ may rest upon you V To all this I can answer noth- 
ing, and so I keep dragging on, because I dare not leave off 
without a discharge. 

" We have still a few inquirers, and one or two have joined 
the church every communion, which is once a month. The 
church continue to attend private meetings diligently. We 
know of four old professors, who have been building on sand, 
but now, I hope, are on Christ ; but we have still a wretched 
set. One was yesterday found to be intemperate, who has 
been a professor several years. 

" I am not quite so well as I have been, but am as well as 
when I left home, and might have been better, if I could learn 
any prudence." 

His filial love suffered no abatement in consequence of his 
growing years and increased cares. How eager he was to 
relieve a father^s burdened spirit, will be seen in the following 
letter of condolence : — 



136 ^ MEMOIR OF 

*' Portland f November 13, l&0£f. 
** My dearest Father, 

" Yours of the 1st inst. I received yesterday, and its con- 
tents gave me no little uneasiness, I am grieved, that such 
depravity should be displayed by one so young,* and that such 
an addition should be made to your cares and sorrows. How 
I long, how I should rejoice, to say something, that would 
comfort you, my dear father ; something that would tend to 
lighten the burden of life which yon mention ! but, alas! I am 
a miserable comforter, and cannot even comfort myself I 
have been preaching, to-day, on Isaiah xl. 1, Comfort y^, 
&c. ; on account of some who are afflicted with various trou- 
bles ; 'and in trying to comfort them, I obtained the first drop 
of consolation, which I have tasted for many days ; and I 
would gladly share it with you, or rather give you all, if in my 
power. But I dare not presume to point out to you the springs 
of consolation which the gospel affords, and at which you 
have often drank and been refreshed. But if I were writing 
to another, I would ask, What burden can be heavy, to one 
who has Omnipotence for his support? Is there not balm in 
Gilead ? Is there no physician there ? Is there any anguish 
which this balm cannot alleviate ? any wound which this Phy- 
sician cannot heal ? I wpuld ask, Can he need comfort, who 
knows that he belongs to the friends and people of God ? that 
his sins are forgiven, and his name written in the Lamb's 
book of life ? Is it not strong consolation, consolation suffi- 
cient to support the soul under the severest trials, to know 
that you are washed, justified, and sanctified, by the blood of 
the Lord Jesus, and the Spirit of your God ? that there is laid up 
for you, in heaven, a crown of glory, an inheritance incorrup- 
tible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away ? and that neither 
death, nor life, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things pres- 
ent, nor things to come, shall ever be able to separate you 
from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus your Lord ? 
Is it not comfort sufficient to satisfy even the boundless de- 
sires of an immortal mind, to know that you are a temple of 
the Holy Ghost, a member of Christ, and a child of God ? 
that the blessed angels are your guards and attendants ? that 
the Holy Spirit is your Assistant and Sanctifier 1 the Son of 
God your Friend, your Shepherd, your Intercessor, and Head? 
and God himself your Father, your God, and your exceeding 
great reward ? Is it not enough to know, that your salvation 
standeth sure, and that heaven is as certainly yours, as if you 

1 — _ — _ — — ■ . s — ■ ■ ■ — 

* He refers to a young female domestic, who set fire to his father's house. 



EDWARD PAYSON. X37 

already stood on Mount Zion, singing the praises of redeem- 
ing love? Is it not enough to know that all things shall 
work together for your good, through time and eternity ? and 
that he who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for 
us all, will with him also freely give us all things ? In some 
such manner as this I would write to an equal, to one whose 
progress in religion was small, whose trials were light, and 
whose views of divine things were partial and confined, like 
my own. But to you, my dear father, I dare not write thus, 
for you know these things already ; and you have doubtless 
spiritual trials, of which I can as yet form no conception, and 
under which, consequently, I know not how even to try to 
comfort you. But is it not some satisfaction to reflect, that to 
you and my mother I shall be indebted, under God, for ever- 
lasting felicity ; and that, if I am made the instrument of do- 
ing any good in the world, it will be owing to your prayers, pre- 
cepts, and example ? My dear father, how many have all 
your trials, and none of your comforts — no God to go to, no re- 
ligion to support them, no hopes of heaven, no divine consola- 
tions, to soothe their sorrows in this valley of tears ! Do, 
then, let us persuade you to be happy ; for you have been the 
mean& of great good and happiness to us. 

" I dare not read over what I have written, and I am almost 
afiraid to send it ; for I write in a hurry, and much exhausted 
both in body and mind, by the labors of the day ; but I write 
with a most £^rdent desire to give you a moment's pleasure ; 
and though I fear I shall not succeed, yet I hope the inten- 
tion will be accepted. I am unfit to write, for it is very late, 
and I am very sleepy, very much tired, and my head aches ; 
but if I did not write now, I must wait some time, and I knew 
not how to wait a single day, without expressing my sorrow 
for your new troubles, though unable to remove them. 

" My health remains nearly the same as when I wrote last. 
I am not better, and I know not that I am worse. I shall not 
fail to let you know the worst, as I promised to do. You 
need, therefore, be under no apprehensions that I am worse 
than I represent. The state of religion continues much the 
same, only the line seems to be drawing between the friends 
and the enemies of Christ. The word is to some a savor of 
life unto life ; but to many, a savor of death unto death. 
Many among us seem to be literally mad upon their idols ; 
but the church seem to be growing in grace. There is a 
society among them, who have two prayer-meetings week- 
ly, besides a monthly fast. The young converts, as yet, 
promise fair.'' 

12* 



X38 MEMOIR OF 

Mr. Payson^s pastoral labors, during the first year, though 
much interrupted by sickness, were nevertheless successful, and, 
by the blessing of God, issued in an accession of twenty-nine 
members to the church. His sermon, at the first anniversary 
of his ordination, was founded on 2 Cor. ii. 15, 16, in which 
he illustrated, in a very lucid and solemn manner, the proposi- 
tions, that, " to those who are saved, the preaching of the gos- 
pel is a savor of life unto life ;'' that, '^ to those who perish, it 
is a savor of death unto death ;" and that '* the labors of those 
who preach it, are in both cases acceptable to God." In the 
application of his discourse, after recognising, with much feel- 
ing, his ordination vows, and the changes by death and other- 
wise, which had occurred in the society, he acknowledges 
that their conduct to him *' has been such as not only to afford 
no cause of complaint, but to merit and excite his warmest 
gratitude, and most earnest prayers and endeavors to promote 
their temporal and spiritual welfare. The patience, with 
which you have borne with the infirmities occasioned by a 
long and debilitating illness; the diligence and attention with 
which you have listened to the ministrations of the word, both 
in season and out of season ; and the many proofs of kindness 
and regard, equally unexpected and undeserved, which you 
have displayed, — are too deeply impressed on the heart and 
memory of the speaker ever to be forgotten, and will render 
it no less his pleasure and delight, than it is his duty, wholly 
to spend and be spent in your service. But merely to hear 
the messages of God attentively, and to treat with kindness 
those who bring them, is not sufficient ; for not the hearers, 
but the doers of the word shall be justified. 

" Permit me, therefore, to ask, whether you, my friends, 
have done more than this ? According to the measure of 
ability given me, I have endeavored plainly to declare unto you 
the whole counsel of God ; and though, through an anxious 
desire to strip off all disguise from the truth, and prevent, so 
far as possible, all error and mistake, the speaker may have 
expressed himself unguardedly, and only irritated where he 
meant to convince, yet still it is the truth which he has pro- 
^>laimed. And we would ask you, most seriously and affec- 
tionately, whether it has been to your souls a savor of life unto 
life, or of death unto death ? 

« # # « 

" Light as it may appear to us, it is, my friends, a dreadful 
thing to trifle with the law and gospel of Jehovah. Nor can 
a ^eater curse befall a people, than to hear his word, if they 



EDWARD PAYSOI<l. I39 

neglect to perform it. A flood of waters, or a deluge of fire, 
is comparatively a blessing. There are, doubtless, many such 
triflers here, who fully resolve, at some future time, to repent 
and believe the gospel. But on what are your hopes founded 1 
Salvation is now more distant from you than ever. For years 
you have been hardening in sin. Every sermon you have 
heard has insensibly rendered you worse. You have already 
heard every motive, argument and consideration, which the 
Scriptures afford, and heard them in vain. The whole store- 
house of spiritual medicines has been thrown open for your re- 
lief ; but your moral diseases, instead of being healed, have be- 
come more inveterate. We can only present to you again the 
same remedies, which have already proved unsuccessful; for 
the art of man and the word of God afford no other. Humanly 
speaking, then, it is evident you must perish. — But though 
your recovery is thus impossible with man, it is not with God. 
Blessed be his name ! there is yet balm in Gilead, and a Phy- 
sician there, who can heal when mortal physicians fail. But, 
alas ! you will not apply to him. You will not believe you 
are sick ; you will not be persuaded to seek eternal life. You 
still go on to neglect the gospel ; and perhaps this very warn- 
ing will prove to some of you a savor of death unto death. — 
My friends, how trying is the situation of the ministers of 
Christ, if they have any love for their people, or regard for 
their souls. They are like a man placed on the brink of a 
precipice, to warn travellers, that, if they proceed, they will in- 
evitably be dashed in pieces. The travellers arrive, listen to 
the warning, and then, with a few exceptions, hold on their 
course, and perish before the eyes of him who labored in vain 
to save them. 

" Such, but infinitely more distressing, is our situation. 
We stand at the entrance of the way of life, to warn our peo- 
ple, that they are in the broad road to destruction, and to urge 
and entreat them to turn aside and be happy. Many of them 
hear our entreaties with some degree of attention and regard. 
They engage our affections by kind offices ; we labor with 
them, tell them they are deeply rooted in our hearts and affec- 
tions ; and then, in defiance of all our prayers and tears, they 
hurry away, and perish before our eyes, in a manner too 
dreadful to be conceived. If this be not agony, disappoint- 
ment, and distress, what is ? The agonies of a patriot, trem- 
bling for his country — of a wife, watching an expiring husband 
*— or of a mother, trembling for a diseased child — are nothing 
to those wh* ch he must feel, who knows the worth of an im- 



140 MEMOIR OF 

mortal soul, who considers what it is to be lost, and yet sees 
his people perishing before him. 

** O, my friends, my dear friends ! how do our spirits droop, 
and our hearts sicken with anguish and despair, when we con- 
sider, that, notwithstanding all we can do, many here present 
will finally find the gospel a savor of death unto death ! and 
all our exertions will answer no other purpose than to increase, 
beyond conception, their misery and guilt ! O, ye precious, 
immortal souls ! ye spirits, that will never die ! ye heirs of 
eternity, hear ! — and obey, ere it is too late, the joyful sound 
of the gospel. O, if there be any avenue to conviction, tell us 
where it lies. Tell, O tell us, how we may draw, or drive, or 
lead you to Christ. Tell us how we may bribe you not to be 
miserable forever. Almost are we ready to say with the apos- 
tle — we could even wish ourselves accursed from Christ for 
our people, our friends according to the flesh." 



EDWARD PAYSON. - 141 



CHAPTER X. 

His dependence on God ; its influence on himself and church 
— His uniform purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ 
and Him crucified — Illustration — Letters — Resolutions — 
Increased success. 

The preparation of his first anniversary sermon, from which 
some extracts have been taken, was attended by long-contin- 
ued and intense private devotion ; and in preaching it, he '^ had 
much assistance, and many were in tears." He looked for- 
ward through the year to come with the same prayerful so- 
lemnity, which distinguished his retrospect of the j>ast. In 
view of his amazing responsibilities, he went for aid " to the 
throne of grace ; and," he exclaims — " O, the unspeakable 
goodness and condescension of God ! — did not go in vain." 
His complaints still hung, like a clog, to him, so that his body 
could but partially serve the ever-active spirit by which it was 
animated. This calamity was at no time more trying than 
when it prevented him fi^om preaching his usual Thurs- 
day evening lecture. On one such evening he makes this 
record : — 

^^ Dec. 30. Hid a sweet season in prayer this morning; 
and felt fervent io\e to my Saviour, and desires that he might 
be glorified. Was much assisted in writing upon a subject, 
which led me to insist upon the constraining power of Christ's 
love ; and, blessed be God, I was enabled in some measure 
to feel my subject. Was prevented from preaching by the 
weather, and the state of my health ; which was a great dis* 
appointment." 

It was Mr. Payson's uniform, if not invariaWe practice, to 
use a written serm.on on one part of every Sabbath ; and yet 
it is worthy of particular observation, how much he sought 
and valued divine assistance in preaching. H:3 dependence 
on the Spirit's aid was, apparently, as real and exclusive as if 
he had made no previous preparation. He was greatly dis- 
tressed, when engaged in pronouncing a discourse, unaccom- 
panie 1 with a consciousness of such assistance ; and propor- 



142 MEMOIR OF 

tionately grateful when favored with it. A single extract will 
exhibit his feelings on this subject : — 

•*' Sabbath, Preached without the least apparent assist- 



ance. Was so distressed, that I left the sermon unfinished, 
and felt as if the people would leave the house. Went home, 
feeling ashamed to look any body in the face. Was ready to 
give up in despair ; .... and had scarcely any hope that I 
should ever again behold the light of God's countenance. Yet 
such is the inconceivable goodness of God to his perverse and 
froward children, that he was pleased, even then, to melt my 
stubborn heart with the displays of his love. Felt so over- 
whelmed with a sense of his goodness and my own ingratitude, 
that I could not look up, or hardly venture to throw myself at 
his feet. My heart was' broken within me, to think that I 
should still ungratefully requite such infinite goodness." 

If this reliance on God for help in preaching was not pecu- 
liar to him, but common — as it probably is in a degree — to 
every evangelical minister, the knowledge of the fact may, per- 
haps, weaken, if it does not remove the prejudice, which exists 
in many minds against any use of " notes'' by a preacher. 

His diary, during this winter, bears the marks of a rapidly 
advancing maturity in the Christian life. Who would not 
emulate the state of mind which is thus described 1 — 

*' Was favored with clear views of the matchless good- 



ness of Christ, and my own vileness. Was so overwhelmed 
and astonished, that he should again look u^jon me with favor, 
that I could scarce believe it possible. Seemed to be drawn 
away from self, and to feel more desire that God should be 
glorified than that I should be happy. This is the only heaven 
I aspire to ; and to have such a temper appeared more desirable 
than ten thousand worlds. Felt sweetly broken-hearted and 
grieved to think how I had sinned against such a Saviour, and 
thought I should be willing to undergo any sufferings, if I 
might never offend him again. Longed to see him glorified by 
others ; for I almost despaired of ever glorifying him myself" 

And who, that reads the following, and is informed that 
similar records continue to occur at short intervals, will any 
longer wonder that success crowned his labors? The first 
extract shows, that the duties which he urged on others were 
first practised by himself : — 

^^Jan.^, 1809. Rose very early, and enjoyed a sweet sea- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 143 

son in secrst prayer. Spent the day in visiting. In the even- 
inff felt the worth of souls lie with peculiar weight upon ray 
mind and was enabled to wrestle fervently for divme influence. 
"Jan 3 Was favored this morning with such a view ot 
the worth of souls, that I could not rest at home but went 
out to visit my people, and stir up the members of the church 
to pray for divine influences. Never felt such love for the 
people of God, as this day. Seemed willing to wash heir feet 
or ^rform the lowest offices, because they belonged to Christ 
Lo^ed. all day, to do something for the gJo^y of God and the 
conversion of sinners.^^ Wished for health, that I might em- 
ploy my time for God." 

A heart so intent upon seeking the salvation of men, might ^ 
well be supposed to dictate language like the following, when 
the tenement in which it was lodged was too feeble to be re- 
moved from its resting-place : — 

" Jan. 7. During the past week, the word of the Lord has 
been like a fire shut up in my bones. I long to preach, but 
cannot. O that I may be patient and resigned. 

The minister, who furnishes appropriate employment for the 
members of his church, performs one ^f/.h^.'^f ^ "^^£ ^^J" 
vices connected with human agency and is the least likely to 
labor in vain, and spend his strength for nought. A conviction 
of personal Responsibility for the prosperity of religion, deep y 
fixed in the heart of every private Christian-a responsibility 
which all are but too ready to throw off" upon their minister- 
will, if any thing can, render them circumspect instant in 
prayer," and " always aboundmg m the work of the Lord. it 
is one of the best preparations for hearing the word with profit 
for with it they will listen, not to cavil, not to be amused, but 
for Tdification: and that they may learn " what the Lord wou d 
have them do." The pastor, who is sustained by the daily 
fervent prayers of his flock, and by their frequent united pray- 
ers, has a ground for encouragement and hope, that will not 
fail him The Spirit will not leave that people unvisited, who 
so appreciate his influences, as to seek them daily with ardor 
. of desire, and to whom their descent would be as welcome, 
and as refreshing, " as cold waters to a thirsty soul. It was, 
therefore, a well-advised step in Mr. Payson, to engage the 
wavers of the church for a blessing on the word dispensed by 
him", and for a general revival of religion. The great impor- 
tance of che duty justified his special exertions to secure its per- 



144 MEMOIR OF 

forraance, and both he and they had much reason to rejoice 
in the issue. 

'' Portland, Jan, 10, 1809. 
^*My dearest Mother, 

" I have been, for some time, endeavoring to establish among 
us what are called ** Aaron and Hur societies," i. e. little col- 
lections of four, five, or more persons, to meet before service 
on Sabbath morning, and spend an hour in praying for a bless- 
ing on the minister and ordinances. They began new year's 
day, and we seemed to have an immediate answer ; for the 
meeting was unusually solemn, and we have reason to hope 
the word was not preached in vain. Our hopes of another 
revival are increasing, as there seems to be an unusual spirit 
of prayer, and several persons have lately been awakened. 
However, God's ways are not as our ways, and we may be 
disappointed. Indeed, it seems impossible to me, that there 
should be any attention, so long as I am here. I am harassed 
with such violent temptations, from morning till night, and 
from night till morning, with scarce a moment's intermission, 
that I am utterly weary of life, and ready to despair. It 
seems as if I must one day perish by the hands of this accursed 
Saul, which seeks to destroy me. When I have a moment's 
ease, the word of the Lord is like a fire shut up in my bones, 
and it seems as if I must preach, if I die for it, even to stocks 
and stones, if men will not hear ; and yet I can only preach 
once on the Sabbath, and am obliged to refrain all the week. 
This sets melancholy to work, and gives the adversary great 
advantage over me. Yet I appear to know it is all right and 
necessary ; but this knowledge does not comfort and strength- 
en me as it ought. Truly the righteous scarcely are saved ; 
and we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom 
of God. Still, however, externally, my cup runs over with 
blessings. My people are so kind, it makes me utterly asham- 
ed, and Mr. K. is like a father to me in every thing. But, 
instead of feeling grateful, and being able to glorify God for his 
goodness, I am so overwhelmed with temptations, that I can 
do nothing but sit still and tremble, lest they hurry me into 
some open sin, which will bring dishonor on the cross. O, my 
dearest mother, do pity me, and pray for me ; for I am sifled 
like wheat." 

The customs of society often render a minister's presence 
unavoidable on public occasions or celebrations of a nature 
not easily defined, but which are of a mixed character, partly 
secular, and partly religious. But Mr. Pay son would never 



EDWARD PAYSON. 145 

degrade his official character. Wherever he was present, 
there the ambassador of Christ " stood confest.'' He never 
would consent to be the mere amusing companion, or enter- 
taining speaker. Those whom he addressed, whatever the 
occasion, were reminded that they were probationers for eter- 
nity. Very pleasing evidence of this has been found in some 
copious remnants of a performance, which, in March of this 
year, he addressed to a Musical Society. Who would look for 
a proof of the existence and perfections of God on such an oc- 
casion ? for a history of the apostasy of angels — of the fall and 
recovery of man — and of the ultimate destination and employ- 
ment of redeemed sinners? Yet all this, '^ in strains as sweet 
as angels use," was wrought into an address on music. — Were 
it his object to pronounce an encomium on Musib, he might, 
he observes in the introduction, from the ample materials fur- 
nished by orators, poets, historians, and philosophers, of past 
ages, " easily compose a rich and unfading wreath of applause, 
with which to encircle and adorn her brows." But, 

** Without resorting to the hyperbolical expressions of poetry, 
or to the dreams and fables of pagan mythology, to the wonders 
said to be performed by the lyre of Amphion, and the harp of 
Orpheus, — I might place before you the prophet of Jehovah, 
composing his ruffled spirits by the soothing influence of mu- 
sic, that he might be suitably prepared to receive a message 
from the Lord of Hosts. I might present to your view the evil 
spirit, by which jealous and melancholy Saul was afflicted, fly- 
ing, baffled and defeated, from the animating and harmonious 
tones of David's harp. I might show you the same David, the 
defender and avenger of his flock, the champion and bulwark 
of his country, the conqueror of Goliath, the greatest warrior 
and monarch of his age, laying down the sword and the scep- 
tre to take up his harp, and exchanging the titles of victor 
and king for the more honorable title of the sweet Psalmist of 

Israel But I appear not before you as her advocate ; 

for in that character my exertions w^ould be superfluous. She 
is present to speak for herself, and assert her own claims to 
our notice and approbation. You have heard her voice in the 
performances of this evening ; and those of you, whom the God 
of nature has favored with a capacity of feeling and understand- 
ing her eloquent language, will, I trust, acknowledge that she 
has pleaied her own cause with triumphant success ; has given 
sensible demonstration, that she can speak, not only to the ear, 
but to t?ie heart; and that she possesses irresistible power to 
sa^the, delight, and fascinate the soul. Nor was it to the 
13 



146 MEMOIR OF 

senses alone that she spake ; but while, in harmonious sounds 
she maintained her claims, and asserted her powers ; in a still 
and small, but convincing voice, she addressed herself directly 
to reason and conscience, proclaiming the most solemn and 
important truths ; truths which perhaps some of you did not 
hear or regard, but which deserve and demand our most seri- 
ous attention With the same irresistible evidence as if 

an angel had spoken from heaven, she said. There is a God — 
and that God is good and benevolent. For, my friends, who 
but God could have tuned the human voice, and given har- 
mony to sounds ? Who, but a good and benevolent God, would 
have given us senses capable of perceiving and enjoying this 
harmony 1 Who, but such a being, would have opened a way 
through the ear, for its passage to the soul ? Could blind 
chance have produced these wonders of wisdom? or a malig- 
nant being these miracles of goodness ? Could they have caused 
this admirable fitness between harmony of sounds, and the or- 
gans of sense by which it is perceived ? No. They would 
have either given us no senses, or left them imperfect, or ren- 
dered every sound discordant and harsh. With the utmost 
propriety, therefore, may Jehovah ask, Who hath made man's 
mouth, and planted the ear? Have not I, the Lord? With 
the utmost justice, also, may he demand of lis, that all our 
musical powers and faculties should be consecrated to his ser- 
vice, and employed in celebrating his praises. To urge you 
diligently and cheerfully to perform this pleasing, reasonable, 
and indispensable duty, is the principal object of the speaker. 
Not, then, as the advocate of music, but as the ambassador of 
that God, whose being and benevolence music proclaims, do I 
now address this assembly, entreating every individual, with- 
out delay, to adopt and practise the resolution of the royal 
Psalmist — I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live ; I will 
sing praise to my God while I have my being '^ Ps. civ. 33. 

He then carries his hearers back to the origin of the world, 
when " every thing was very good," and " all creation harmon- 
ized together. All its parts, animate and inanimate, like the 
^oices and instruments of a well regulated concert, helped to 
f^ompose a perfect and beautiful whole ; and so exquisite was 
the harmony thus produced, that in the whole compass of crea- 
tion, not one jarring or discordant note was heard, even by the 

perfect ear of God himself The blessed angels of light 

began the universal chorus, ' when the morning stars sang to- 
gether, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.' " — He describes 
** the music of the spheres" — the part which the heavenly bodies 



EDWARD PAYSON. 147 

performed in the concert — and descends, through the animate 
creation, down to the meanest thing that hath life : — 

'' E'en the dumb fish, that swam the flood, 
Leaped up, and meant the praise of God." 

" Of this universal concert, man was appointed the terres- 
trial leader, and was furnished with natural and moral powers, 
admirably fitted for this blessed and glorious employment. 
His body, exempt fi'om dissolution, disease, and decay, was 
like a perfect and well-strung instrument, which never gave 
forth a false or uncertain sound, but always Answered, with 
exact precision, the wishes of his nobler part, the soul. His 
heart did not then belie his tongue, when he sung the praises 
of his Creator ; but all the emotions felt by the one were ex- 
pressed by the other, from the high notes of ecstatic admira- 
tion, thankfulness, and joy, down to the deep tones of the 
most profound veneration and humility. In a word, his heart 
was the throne of celestial love and harmony, and his tongue 
at once the organ of their will, and the sceptre of their power. 

" We are told, in ancient story, of a statue, formed with 
such wonderful art, that, whenever it was visited by the rays 
of the rising sun, it gave forth, in honor of that luminary, the 
most melodious and ravishing sounds. In like manner, man 
was originally so constituted, by skill divine, that, whenever 
he contemplated the rays of wisdom, power, and goodness, 
emanating from the great Sun of the moral system, the ardent 
emotions of his soul spontaneously burst forth in the most pure 
and exalted strains of adoration and praise. Such was the 
world, such was man, at the creation. Even in the eye of the 
Creator, all was good ; for, wherever he turned, he saw only 
his own image, and heard nothing but his own praises. Love 
beamed from every countenance ; harmony reigned in every 
breast, and flowed mellifluous from every tongue ; and the 
grand chorus of praise, begun by raptured seraphs round the 
throne, and heard from heaven to earth, was reechoed back 
from earth to heaven ; and this blissful sound, loud as the 
archangel's trump, and sweet as the melody of his golden harp, 
rapidly spread, and was received from world to world, and 
floated, in gently-undulating waves^ even to the farthest bounds 
of creation." 

To this primeval harmony, he exhibits the lamentable con- 
trast which followed, when sin " untuned the tongues of an- 
gels, and changed their blissful songs of praise into the groans 
of wretchedness, the execrations of malignity, the blasphemies 
of impiety, and the ravings of despair. Storms and tempests, 



148 MEMOIR OF 

earUquakes and convulsions, fire from above, and deluges from 
beneath, which destroyed the order of the natural vi^orld, prov- 
ed that its. baleful influence had reached our earth, and afford- 
ed a faint emblem of the jars and disorders which sin had in- 
troduced into the moral system. Man's corporeal part, that 
lyre of a thousand strings, tuned by the finger of God himself, 
destined to last as long as the soul, and to be her instrument in 
offering up eternal praise, was, at one blow, shattered, un- 
strung, and almost irreparably ruined. His soul, all whose 
powers and fac^ties, like the chords of an iEolian harp, once 
harmoniously vrorated to every breath of the divine Spirit, and 
ever returned a sympathizing sound to the tones of kindness 
and love from a fellow-being, now became silent, and insensi- 
ble to melody, or produced only the jarring and discordant 
notes of envy, malice, hatred, and revenge. The mouth, filled 
with cursing and bitterness, was set against the heavens ; the 
tongue was inflamed with the fire of hell. Every voice, in- 
stead of uniting in the song of ' Glory to God in the highest,' 
was now at variance with the voices around it, and, in barba- 
rous and dissonant strains, sung praise to itself, or was em- 
ployed in muttering sullen murmurs against the Most High — 
in venting slanders against fellow-creatures — in celebrating 
and deifying some worthless idol, or in singing the triumphs 
of intemperance, dissipation, and excess. The noise of vio- 
lence and cruelty was heard mingled with the boasting of the 
oppressor, and the cry of the oppressed, and the complaints of 
the wretched ; while the shouts of embattled hosts, the crash 
of arms, the brazen clangor of trumpets, the shrieks of the 
wounded, the groans of the dying, and all the horrid din oi 
war, together with the wailings of those whom it had rendered 
widows and orphans, overwhelmed and drowned every sound 
of benevolence, praise, and love. Such is the jargon which 
sin has introduced — such the discord which, from every quar- 
ter of our globe, has long ascended up into the ears of the 
Lord of hosts." 

He next adverts to the mission of Jesus Christ, followed by 
the descent of the Holy Spirit, to restore harmony, when 
'* those benevolent beings, who celebrated the birth-day of cre- 
ation, joined with tenfold transports in singing glory to God 
in the highest, that there was again on earth peace and good 
will to men, and tliat the vacancy which sin had occasioned 
among the choirs and armies of heaven would soon be filled 
by individuals selected from the human race, and taught to 
sing the song of the Lamb, by the influences of the Spirit of 
ha/mony himself To teach mankind this sacred song, and 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



149 



thus prepare them to fill the places and perforin the offices of 
those angels who kept not their first estate, is the great object 
of God in the preservation of the world, in its various revolu- 
tions, and in all the dispensations of his providence and grace ; 
while to learn it comprises our duty here, as to sing it will 
constitute our employment and happiness hereafter. This 
song, however, which St. John heard sung upon Mount Zion 
by the one hundred and forty and four thousand, can be taught 
by none but the Spirit of God.'' — He then urges the impor- 
tance of piety in singers, especially such as lead in this part 
of worship, and enTorces the duty of parents to cultivate musi- 
cal talents in their children. ^' Were this duty duly perform- 
ed, from proper motives, we should soon see a sight which 
was perhaps never seen on earth, — a whole assembly employ- 
ed in singing praise to God. But, as this pleasing sight is 
probably reserved for the celestial world, let the leaders in this 
delightful part of religious worship remember, that if holiness 
becomes God's house forever — if it is required that those who 
bear the vessels of the Lord should be holy — much more is it 
required of those who are the mouth of his people in singing 
his praise." In a solemn application, he carries his hearers 
forward to the time when " every tongue in the assembly will 
be employed in praising or blaspheming — every individual be 
an anorel or a demon." 

There is a luxuriance in his style, at the time of writing 
this address, which was considerably chastened in later years. 
Taken as a whole, the performance, while it was in perfect 
unison with the occasion, was admirably adapted to promote 
the great object which was always uppermost in his mind, and 
may serve as a specimen of his talent for making every occa- 
sion speak with force to the consciences of men. 

Bodily infirmity continued still to cramp and repress his en- 
ergies, and he had already " been assured by his physician, that 
his complaints were mortal." 

''April 26. Was excessively weak, so that I could do 
nothing to any purpose. Longed to lay my feeble body in the 
grave, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary 
are at rest ; not that I was weary of God's service, if I could 
serve him with more strength and sincerity ; but my mind 
sunk under the weakness of my body." 

''Portland, May n,lS09. 

" The Spirit seems still to accompany the word among 



us, and the attention to religion is rather increasing. Several 
13* 



150 , MEMOIR OB 

new instances of conviction have occurred lately, which now 
bid fair to be abiding. ^ * * 

*' We have, this year, twenty tithingmen, instead of ten last 
year, and none the year before ; and are in a fair way to have 
the town reformed, at least externally. Several of the most 
conspicuous leaders in the race of pleasure and fashion have 
lately become more serious, and we are hoping their example 
will be followed by others. The grand jury, also, begin to 
perform their duty, in presenting parishes that have no preach- 
ing, and shutting up tippling shops and bad houses. We are, 
therefore, encouraged to hope that God, by thus removing 
some of our external spots and pollutions, is preparing the way 
for an inward, real reformation. There seems, also, to be a 
hearing ear, and our meetings on the Sabbath are unusually 
crowded, and the church seems to be unusually humbled under 
a sense of their deficiencies. The state of my health still con- 
tinues a clog upon me ; but it is a great mercy, and I cannot 
find it in my heart to pray for its removal.'^ 

Before this time, he had felt his hands strengthened by the 
settlement of a highly-valued brother over a church in a neigh- 
boring town ; but new trials awaited him, which put the in- 
tegrity of his principles to the severest test. With reference 
to an overture, which he could not meet without sacrificing, 
in his own view, his Master's honor, he observes, it was made, 
*' hoping, no doubt, either to stop my mouth, as ^neas did 
that of old Cerberus, with this honey-cake, or, at least, to dis- 
cover from my answer how I meant to conduct." He was re- 
markably circumspect in his official conduct, quick to discern 
the purport and bearings of every art on the interests of the 
church, and avoided every step by which those interests would 
be compromited. 

In the summer of this year, a minister was ordained over 
the first church in Portland. His conduct, in relation to that 
transaction, has been the frequent topic of very severe animad- 
version, and is not, even now, " lost in silence, and forgot." 
Justice to his memory, therefore, requires that the grounds 
upon which he proceeded should be known. The first refer- 
ence to the affair is contained in a letter, which bears date not 
many days before the ordination, and is in these words : — 
'' One of the deacons came to me, representing it as the wish, 

not Qnly of Mr. , but of the church, that there might be 

harmony between the churches, and that I would give him the 

right hand. I told him that I was much obliged to Mr. , 

and to the church ; that I wished for harmony as much as they 



EDWARD PAYSON. 151 

possibly could ; but that it belonged to the Council to assign 
the parts, and that no one could pledge himself to perform any 
part, at an ordination, till he was acquainted with the candi- 
date, and knew what were the sentiments he intended to in- 
culcate." After stating the deacon's reply, expressing his 
confidence in the sentiments and character of the man, the 
letter proceeds — '^ I told him, we could better form an opinion 
of the candidate when he came before the Council ; and that 
I hoped we should find nothing in his conduct or belief, which 
would occasion any difficulty ; and so we parted. How it will 
end, it is impossible to say." 

f 

This is not the language of a prejudiced mind, condemning 
a man unheard, and ^* taking up a report against his neighbor :" 
but of one who had learned the apostolic lesson, ^^ judge noth- 
ing before the time." No other course would have been equally 
proper and scriptural. His principles of conduct, in this case, 
will bear the strictest scrutiny. Later still, he thus adverts to 
the subject — 

" The ordination is just at hand, and engrosses universal 
attention in town. — The candidate is a fine scholar, has an 

amiable disposition, and has treated me in that frank, 

open, fi-iendly manner, which is just calculated to win me over 
to his side. Add to this, that both his society and mine are 
anxious that the old enmity between the two parishes may now 
be done away, since two young men are placed over them. 
But I hope I shall be able to act as duty requires." 

Here, certainly, was a combination of motives, powerful be- 
yond all others, to influence a man situated as he was. Noth- 
ing, which he could do, would have so immediately raised him 
in the popular estimation, as to have approved and taken part 
in the ordination. The excellent general character, and dis- 
tinguished attainments of the candidate, which he was quick to 
perceive-, and forward to appreciate, the interesting relations of 
the two societies, the almost universal wish, and the equally 
extensive disappointment and chagrin, which would follow 
upon his dissent, and numerous other circumstances, pleaded 
with an. eloquence, which it required a martyr's firmness to 
resist. But it was not a question for mere feelings to decide. 
There was a higher umpire. He had derived his instructions 
firom an infallible source, and they left him no discretionary 
power in the case. The same authority had prescribed the 
qualifications o^'' a good minister of Jesus Christ." Nor had 



152 MEMOIR OF 

he forgotten the caution, which, in circumstances of peculiar 
solemnity, had been enforced upon him respecting the exer- 
cise of one of the most important prerogatives conferred by his 
commission. The result of the examination, and of a compar- 
ison, in this instance, of what was developed with the requisi- 
tions of God's word, was a firm conviction that he could not 
co-operate with the Council in the ordination. Nor did he, 
like some others, merely decline to act ; he raised his hand 
against proceeding. He did not only evade responsibility on 
the one hand, but he assumed it on the other. His opposition 
was open and manly; and he found, in an approving con- 
science, a satisfaction, v*^hich was cheaply purchased by the 
temporary loss of popular favor, and by suffering all the odium, 
which, in consequence of that act, he incurred. He thus al- 
ludes to it in a letter to his father : — 

" The ordination is over I shall not trouble you 

with an account of the good-natured speeches which are made 
respecting my conduct. You can easily conceive of them, 
and will join with me in rejoicing, that I share the blessedness 
of those, concerning whom all manner of evil is spoken, false- 
ly, /br Christ's sake. — It will only be a nine days' wonder to 
the good folks and gossips, who will lament, in very pathetic 
strains, that Mr. Payson should have such bigoted, narrow, 
party views, and that there cannot be harmony and peace be- 
tween the two churches." 

Time, instead of reversing, has confirmed the correctness 
of his decision. The difference between his creed and that 
which he opposed, is now generally admitted, by the adherents 
of both, to be as wide as Mr. Payson made it. He was a 
magnanimous opponent, who did not allow a difference of 
opinion to interrupt " the charities of life ;" and his conduct in 
this respect was reciprocated. — We now return to his letters . 

''June 5, 1809. 
"My dearest Mother, 

" You judged right with respect to my anxiety to hear fi-om 
home ; for after the first of your letters, giving an account of 
my father's illness, arrived, I could scarcely rest till the arrival 
of the other ; and had it not been for the approaching ordina- 
tion, and some promising appearances among my people, I 
should, ere this, have been at home. I must confess that I am 
surprised, as well as grieved, that father should persist in 
preaching, when it is so clearly and indispensably his duty to 



EDWARD PAYSON, * I53 

desist; especially after the admonitions he has given me on 
that subject. He would see and allow, with respect to any 
other person in the same situation, that it was wrong to preach. 
Perhaps my language may appear almost disrespectful ; but on 
this subject, I am too nearly interested, to use the cold lan- 
guage of strict propriety. I cannot be silent ; and should the 
consequences which I fear result from his preaching, it would 
ever be with me a subject of bitter regret, that I had not done 
all in my power to prevent it. He must desist. It is a duty 
which he owes himself, his family, his people, and his God, to 
desist ; for preaching now will be his death ; and his family 
and people will repent too late, if they do not prevail upon him 
not to preach again till he is better. Mark my words—for I 
will have nothing to reproach myself with, be the consequences 
what they may. If I were at home, he should walk over my 
body, before he could get into the pulpit. Excuse me, my 
dear mother, and plead with him to pardon my boldness ; but 
I am distressed with the bare apprehension of what the conse- 
quence may be. 

^^ June 7. 

" My health continues to mend, though slovi^ly. I get over 
the fatigue of preaching much sooner than I did, and my food 
and sleep nourish and refresh me, which has not been the case 
till lately. The religious attention appears rather to increase 
than diminish ; but though it is pleasant to see inquirers, yet 
the constant anxiety which they occasion, lest they should go 
back, is exceedingly painful, and wears upon nature. I know 
it is wrong thus to take Christ^ s work out of his hands, and to 
perplex myself respecting events, over which I have no control ; 
but as yet I cannot wholly refrain, though the fault, like most 
other faults, carries its own punishment with it. I am at pres- 
ent, unless greatly deceived, in the worst part of the Christian 
race. My people love me, but I cannot enjoy their kindness, 
lest, instead of rendering me thankful, it should only feed pride. 
I can take no pleasure in any success that attends my labors 
for similar reasons. I am surrounded with blessings more than 
I should have dared to hope for ; but this accursed sin turns 
them all to poison and bitterness. Were it not for this, how 
happy might I be ! But, blessed be God, thi» shows me, more 
and more clearly, what an evil and bitter thing it is to forsake 
the Lord pf Hosts." 

'' Portland, August 1, 1809. 
^'My dear Sister, 

" My time is so much engrossed by parochial affairs, that, 
tiU tbs moment, I have had no leisure to write, and must now 



154 MEMOIll OF 

Steal time from other things which require my attention. You 
can have no conception, unless you were present, how my time 
is taken up. Every moment is mortgaged before it arrives, 
and, notwithstanding all my exertions, the business seems to 
grow upon my hands ; so that I am ready to sit down in despair, 
and do nothing. If every day was as long as ten, there would 
be ample employment for every hour. I find scarcely any time 
to read or study, and am constrained to go into the pulpit with 
discourses so undigested, that my pride is continually mortified ; 
and though it lies groaning and bleeding under continual 
wounds, it will not be persuaded to give up the ghost. How 
ever, so long as God is pleased to carry on his work with such 
discourses, I have no right to complain or be discouraged ; 
since, the feebler the means, the more he is glorified. And I 
hope that, some time or other, I shall learn to be willing to be 
counted a fool, that all the glory may redound lo his wisdom. 
But this is a hard lesson to learn. To be will ng to be noth- 
ing, to rejoice to be nothing, that Goa iia/ be all in all ; to 
glory in infirmities, that the power of Chris, may rest upon us, 
— this is the temper which I pine and hunger after ; but, alas ! 
it appears at a distance so great, that I despair of ever reach- 
ing any where near it in this world. If we could put God 
entirely in the place of self, consider his will as our will, his 
honor as our honor, his happiness as our happiness, his inter- 
est as our interest, and pursue it accordingly, how happy 
should we be ! And how happy shall we be in that world, 
where this will be the case, and where the very stump of that 
Dagon, self, will not be permitted to remain in our hearts, as 
the rival of our blessed Redeemer. O, to be holy as God is 
holy — this is to be happy, according to our measure, as God is 
happy. Strive then, my dear, dear sister, strive, wrestle, pray, 
long and pant after holiness. If I cannot be holy myself, yet 
I long to see others holy. If I cannot love and praise the ever- 
blessed Redeemer, it is almost heaven sufficient to see him 
loved and praised by others. If we could render to him ac- 
cording to his benefits ! — but we cannot, we cannot ; we must 
be content to be, as it were, crushed to all eternity under an 
insupportable weight of goodness ; for even the disposition to 
praise him for fa^rs already received, is a new favor, which 
still adds to the mighty debt ; and the faster he enables us to 
render back what we receive, so much the faster do our obliga- 
tions increase. And yet, instead of praising him, we are con- 
stantly sinning. I hope it is not so bad with others, but, with 
respect to myself, there seems to be constant strife between him 
and rae, whether I shall exceed in provoking, or he in pardon- 



EDWARD PAYSON. I55 

ing ; whether I shall succeed in destroying myself by my own 
madness and folly against his will, or he succeed in saving me 
in spite of myself. But in this strife he still conquers, and will 
conquer. I have done every thing to provoke him to leave 
me ; but he will not be provoked. He will still return to hum- 
ble me, and shame me ; and I am ready to call on the rocks 
and mountains to fall on me, and hide me from the tender, ex- 
postulating, heart-breaking, soul-subduing glances of his eye, 
which fill me with such shame and confusion, that it seems as 
if I could more easily endure the lightnings of his indignation. 
Were all his people like me, and were justice done upon them, 
surely they would be sentenced to some hell more dreadful 
than that which is prepared for others. 

** We have still considerable attention to religion. The 
number of inquirers is upwards of forty, and many more are 
serious. We had hoped for hundreds ere this ; but God keeps 
us waiting, and pitying, and still gives a spirit of prayer." 

'' Portland, Sept. 22, 1809. 
'My DEAREST Mother, 

** The attention to religion still continues. Last commun- 
ion, we admitted eleven to the church, and next Sabbath we 
shall admit twelve more. The appetite for hearing seems 
insatiable, and our assemblies are more crowded than ever. 
Many have lately joined us. However, the gospel proves a 
savor of death unto death, as well as of life unto life. Many 
seem to be awfully hardened, and many severe reflections are 
cast upon religion and its professors. 

"After telling you that religion thus flourishes among us, I 
am ashamed to complain ; for what reason of complaint can a 
minister have, while he sees the cause of Christ triumphant? 
Nor do I complain of any thing except myself Every earthly 
thing is imbittered to me, and the enjoyments of religion are 
kept far above my reach. I am overwhelmed by one wave of 
temptation after another. My bodily powers are kept in such 
a continual state of exhaustion, and my nerves are so weak, 
that mole-hills appear to be mountains, and I am ready to 
stumble at a straw ; and when imaginary evils disappear, I 
find real perplexities and difficulties, which weigh me down in 
the dust. I know, indeed, that all these things are necessary ; 
and when I am left in my own possession, I would not wish to 
have my burthen lightened. At times too, I am '* holpen with 
a little help," so that, though cast down, I am not utterly de- 
stroyed. But how desperate, how inconceivable, must be the 
wi :kedness of that heart, which draws down such sufferings 



I5g MEMOIR OP 

from the hand of the compassionate Saviour, and requires sucn 
painful remedies to heal it." 

*' Portland, Nov. 1, 1809. 
" My dear Sister, 

'* It is no small disappointment to me, and I flatter myself 
that it will be some disappointment to you, that I am under the 
necessity of sending this inanimate scroll, to see and mquire 
after you, instead of coming myself, as I expected, and partly 
promised. But my health does not absolutely require a jour- 
ney this season ; and my engagements are such, that I know 
not how to be absent a single day. In the first place, the sit- 
uation of the parish requires my presence. The people still 
have a hearing ear, but there i^ more opposition, more at- 
-tempts to mislead young converts, and turn aside inquirers, 
than formerly; and, therefore, I wish to be with them. Be- 
sides, the neighboring ministers are stirred up to more dili- 
gence and attention. They have lately adopted the custom of 
keeping days of fasting and prayer, and invitmg in a number ot 
preachers ; and I have some engagements of this kind, just 
now, which I am unwilling to leave. We have already had 
three days of this kind in three of the neighboring towns, and 
hope to extend it through the whole association. We are just 
establishing a Bible Society, also, and this employs consider a- 
ble time at present ; so that, with these and other thmgs which 
require attention, I am too much engaged to leave home ; and 
I trust you will not suspect my affection diminishes, because 1, 
at this time, prefer duty to pleasure. 

- My hopes respecting increase. He tells his 

people some solemn truth-s; and a lawyer from *^****, who 
was formerly acquainted with him, says he is spoilt, and that, 
though he used to be a good rational preacher, he is m a fair 
way to become an enthusiast. What a glorious mstance of 
sovereign mercy it would be, should God bless that parish with 
a faithful minister ! ... 

^* The cause of evangelical religion is certainly gaining 
ground in this eastern country. Mr. J. of B., on whom the 
liberal party placed great reliance, has lately come out lull on 
the side of ortljpdoxy. President A. was thought to be waver- 

inff, but he is now quite decided ; and if Mr. does 

o> . . ^ , T +v,;nV ih(^ ****** ****** will lose 

not disappoint our hopes, 1 think the wi" '^°^ 

all hopes of liberalizing the District of Maine. Violent and 
systematic attempts, however, are making here m opposition to 
truth. Pamphlets are circulated to prove that all the hard 
texts in the Bible refer to primitive times; and the new feocm- 
ian translation of the New Testament threatens to produce 



EDWARD PAYSON. I57 

mischief; but, while the enemy comes in as a flood, the Spirit 
of the Lord is lifting up a standard against him. Within two 
years, five orthodox ministers have been settled, or are about 
settling, in this association, which includes the county of Cum- 
berland, and many others preach very different doctrine from 
what they formerly did." 

His afflictive melancholy had now become comparatively 
harmless ; for, though it did not cease to distress him, its ty- 
rannical power was broken, and it much less frequently imped- 
ed his mental efforts. There is one allusion, however, to this 
mode of its operation, which is peculiarly characteristic : — 
" Was employed in vain attempts to prepare for lecture. Did 
nothing, all day, but learn the old lesson over again, that with- 
out Christ I can do nothing. Were I not the dullest of all 
scholars, I might surely spare my heavenly Father the trouble 
of teaching me this lesson again." 

In his frequent seasons of illness, and his multiplied public 
engagements, he saw cause of danger that his private devotions 
would suffer interruption or abatement. To guard against 
such an evil, appears to have been one object of the following 
resolutions, which were adopted, or renewed, near the close 
of this year : — 

"1. I will, on no pretence whatever, omit reading the Scrip- 
tures, with prayer, morning and evening. 

" 2. When practicable, I will spend one day in every week 
in fasting and prayer. 

" 3. I will allow but six hours for sleep. 

"4. I will endeavor to redeem the time by being diligent 
and fervent in business. 

** 5. I will live more to the glory of God than I have done. 

" 6. I will, every evening, review my conduct through the 
day, and see how far I have fulfilled these resolutions." 

To the peculiar trials which distinguished this year, the 
merciful Redeemer provided an antidote in the spiritual bless- 
ings which he bestowed. Under the labors of his servant, 
sinners were converted, and the church was increased by an 
addition of forty-four members. 
14 



158 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER XI. 

Permanency and strength of maternal injluence — Correspond- 
ence— Deatli-hed anguish, how alleviated — Disgraceful inci- 
dent — Price of popularity — Reasons of former trials devel- 
oped — Letters, S^c. 

The reader is not to infer that the subject of this narrative 
ceased to ^^ give himself continually unto prayer," because the 
daily-recorded testimony of the fact, to vi^hich appeal has so 
often been made, is less frequently introduced. This was an 
employment of vi^hich he seems never to have grown weary, 
and which there are no indications that he ever relaxed. He 
^ dwelt in the secret place of the Most High, and abode under 
the shadow of the Almighty.' His accumulated burden of 
cares and sorrows he every day brought with him to the throne 
of grace, and retired thence relieved from its pressure, or 
strengthened to sustain it. 

'^ Dec. 29. Was enabled to agonize in prayer for myself and 
people, and to make intercession with unutterable groanings. 
My heart and flesh cried out for the living God. Felt very 
strong hope that God was about to work wonders among us." 

How well his mother understood his character — how saga- 
cious she was in her aims at his heart, always successful in 
touching the chord that would be sure to vibrate — in a word, 
now assiduous and valuable a comforter she was — is apparent 
from his answers to her letters : — 



''Portland, Feb. ^, 1810. 
''My dear Mother, 

" I do * bless Heaven ' if I am made ^ the joy of my parents' 
heart,' and esteem it one of the greatest mercies for which I 
have reason to be thankful. Just before I received the letter 
which contained this consoling assurance, I was wondering 
what such a poor, miserable, worthless wretch was ever made 

for, and why I should be preserved in existence But, 

if I can afford any joy to my parents, or to any one else, I 
think I am willing to live, let my trials be ever so great ; and 



EDWARD PAYSON. 159 

I bless God, and thank you for sending me that letter just at 
the right time. It proved a very seasonable and refreshing 
cordial to a fainting spirit. But methinks I hear you ask, — 
^ Why do you talk of fainting, when you have so much reason 
to rejoice and praise God for his goodness V I faint because 
I find no heart, in the midst of all his goodness, to praise him 
for it. I faint because, while I feed others, I am left to pine 
in hunger, and am parched with thirst. In proportion as my 
labors are blessed to others, my sorrows and sins increase ; 
and, though I am assisted in keeping the vineyard of others, 
my own runs to waste. I cannot think that any one but a 
minister knows any thing of a minister's trials ; and I believe 
Paul had a peculiar reference to them when he said, — ' If in 
this life only we have hope, we are of all men most miserable.' 

T? "7? V? T^ 

" The attention to religion continues among us, and has 
much increased within a few weeks. It seems to be spread- 
ing more among the men. There are some favorable appear- 
ances in the neighboring towns. Last week, and the week 
before, and this week, I have attended fasts, in different places, 
which have been observed with prayer for a revival of religion, 
and am engaged to attend another next week. 

** I preached yesterday on our Saviour's words to his disci- 
ples — " All power is given to me in heaven and in earth.'' 
What an animating assurance to his people, when they have a 
strong faith to take hold of it !" 

''Feb. 8. Was favored with great fervor and freedom at 
the throne of grace this morning. Longed only to be employ- 
ed as an instrument of glorifying Christ, and was willing to 
drink of his cup, and to be baptized with his baptism, if I 
might have a double portion of his Spirit. In the afternoon 
and evening, attended conferences, and was grievously disap- 
pointed to find no new inquirers." 

"^i?n7 17, 1810. 
"My dearest Mother 

" I have just received your affectionate letter, and thank 
you most sincerely for the maternal love which breathes in 
every line. God grant that I may be made worthy of all the 
proofs of parental affection with which I am mercifully favored. 
If I derive any pleasure from the success with which our gra- 
cious Master is pleased to crown my labors in the ministry, it, 
in a great measure, arises from the happiness which I know 
this success gives my friends at home. Next to glorifying 



160 MEMOIR OF 

God, by doing good to mankind, it is my chief desire to be 
made the means of promoting your happiness. 
* * * * 

"My situation is now as agreeable as I ever expect it will 
be on earth ; and I shall not be in a hurry to change it. I 
now hear none but religious conversation ; every day seems 
like a Sabbath, and we have a little image of heaven upon 
earth. You will, I know, join with me in blessing our boun- 
teous Benefactor for this fresh instance of his goodness. 

'^ I rejoice, most sincerely rejoice, with you, and especially 
with my dear father, in the hopeful appearances which attend 
his labors. He has long been going forth weeping, bearing 
precious seed. I hope he will now be enabled to come again 
rejoicing, bringing with him the sheaves of an abundant har- 
vest. I still feel exceedingly anxious respecting his health, 
but must leave it with God. 

*' My own health continues very much the same — rather 
better of late, if any different. I do not expect it will be 
restored till the attention to religion ceases ; for it does not 
answer for me to have too many blessings at once. 

" We are still favored with the presence of the Spirit of 
grace, though in a less degree than formerly. Appearances, 
however, begin again to look more encouraging. The young 
converts, who have made a profession, with a very few excep- 
tions, bid fair to do honor to the cause. Some of them, espe- 
cially, advance very rapidly ; and the mouths of opposers, who 
seek occasion to blaspheme, are stopped. The congregation, 
and especially the church, continue affectionate as ever. In 
short, I am a wonder to myself, and can scarcely believe what 
I daily see of the goodness of God. You will naturally con- 
clude, however, that inward trials will not be wanting where 
outward comforts are so multiplied. I thought, long since, 
that I had endured every thing horrible and dreadful that was 
ever felt, heard of, or conceived ; but I find that the depths 
of Satan, and of a heart desperately wicked, are not so easily 
fathomed. These unfathomable depths, however, only serve 
to show me more clearly the infinite heights and depths of 
Christ's love ; and I\ know that he who delivered me out of 
the paw of the lion and the bear will deliver me from every 
foe, however gigantic. It is but a moment, my mother, and 
we shall be singing the song of redeeming love together before 
the throne. Yes ; our salvation is nearer than when we be- 
lieved. Every moment it comes hastening on, and to-morrow 
it will be here. Yes ; to-morrow we shall be as the angels of 
God. O for patience to wait for the glory which will be re- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 16X 

vealed, and to endure the previous light afflictions, which con- 
tinue but for a moment !" 

The affectionate minister has joys peculiar to himself, or 
rather to his office ; and the same may be said of his trials. 
He is the father of his flock, so far as the relation supposes a 
community of feeling in their happiness and misery. Incon- 
siderate transgressors know little of the anguish which they 
bring upon the pastor who warns and entreats them to seek 
" the good and right way ;" and they undervalue his counsels 
and his prayers till roused by some affecting providence, or 
brought down to the very gate of death, and then there is 
nothing on earth which they so much covet. The case men- 
tioned below is, perhaps, a marked one ; and yet what faith- 
ful minister could not name instances which form no distant 
parallels to this ! 

" May 12. Was permitted to draw near to God with joy 
and confidence. O how astonishing is his goodness ! A little 
while since, I thought it impossible I should ever be delivered 
from the grasp of sin. But he has brought me up from the 
horrible pit and miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and 
put a new song into my mouth, even praise unto his name. — 
Had scarcely fallen asleep, when I was called up to visit a 
dying woman. Found her in all the agonies of despair ; and 
her dreadful shrieks pierced my very soul, and almost curdled 
my blood with horror. Prayed, in an agony of spirit, that God 
would snatch her as a brand from the burning. After prayer, 
she was more quiet, and sunk into an imperfect sleep. Came 
away broken down with a load of anguish. 

^^ May 13. Sabbath. Rose languid, and exhausted in body 
and mind. The shrieks of the dying woman rang in my ears 
incessantly. Between meetings, was called to visit her again. 
Found her composed and happy, rejoicing in the Lord, and 
apparently resigned to live or die. On examination, found 
reason to believe that she was really reconciled to God, and 
yet could hardly believe it. Could scarcely look upon it as an 
answer to prayer, and still knew not how to avoid considering 
it as ^uch. 

, '^ May 17. Was much enlivened, to-day, by hearing that 
a remarkable spirit of prayer was poured out, last evening, at 
meeting.' Could not but hope that the Lord was about to take 
the work into his own hands. In the evening, attended the 
conference for inquirers. Was still more encouraged by hear- 
ing that the Spirit was again remarkably present at a prayer- 
14 # 



162 MEMOIR OF 

meeting of the church this evening. Felt almost confident 
that the Lord was about to make bare his arm in a wonderful 
manner. Was so much animated and enlivened by this hope, 
that I could scarcely recover sufficient tranquillity of mind to 
pray that my hopes might not be disappointed. 

'^ May 24. Was excessively feeble all day. In the after- 
noon and evening, attended the conference for inquirers, but 
found only one. Was, at first, discouraged; but afterwards 
reflected, that it is God's method to bring us low, before he 
raises us." 

^' Friday Eve, June 15. 
'^My dearest Mother, 

^' I arrived here, this afternoon, after an agreeable ride, and 
found a house of mourning waiting for me. The young lady 
I mentioned died last Wednesday morning. The grief of the 
family, and my own feelings, you can better conceive than I 
describe. The pious members, however, are wonderfully sup- 
ported, so that they are an astonishment to themselves. The 
funeral is to be to-morrow, having been delayed one day for 
my return. 

'^Pray for me. — My friends at home are much endeared 
to me by their kindness during my late visit. I ahvays feel 
vexed at myself, after coming away, that I did not say more 
on that subject, and seem more sensible of their goodness, 
while I was with them. But, some how or other, it is contrary 
to my nature to tell people how much I love and thank them." 

''July 19, 1810, 

"Grief has a wonderful efficacy, as you observe, in 

softening the heart ; and suffering binds us to fellow-sufferers ; 
so that I cannot tell what may be the event. 

*' I have much new cause for gratitude since I left home. 

The minister at , a smooth, liberal preacher, has been 

long intemperate, and lately fell from his horse into a slough, 
on his way to meeting. He was, on this, dismissed; and, as 
he was not the first bad minister this people had been cursed 
with, they have contracted a strong prejudice against the Con- 
gregational clergy. They, however, wrote to me to come and 
preach for them one Sabbath, if I could, and I accordingly 
went. I was treated with great kindness, had a very crowded, 
attentive, and solemn assembly ; and from letters since receiv- 
ed in town, it appears that not a few were deeply affected, and 
convinced of sin. They are exceedingly desirous that I should 
come again ; and unless they succeed in getting a candidate 



EDWARD PAYSON. 163 

soon, I shall go. They are determined to have none come, 
who are not orthodox. If I had health and strength, I might 
apparently do much good by thus preaching in different places." 

The youthful reader, especially if he be a candidate for the 
ministry, will do well to pause over the following instructive 
paragraph : — 

" As you suspect, popularity costs me dear ; and, did it not 
afford me the means of being more extensively useful, I should 
heartily pray to be delivered from it, as the greatest of all 
curses. Since the novelty has worn ofi', it affords me no pleas- 
ure ; and yet I am continually wishing for more, though it feeds 
nothing but pride. If we had no pride, I believe applause 
would give us no pleasure. But no one can conceive how 
dearly it is purchased ; what unspeakably dreadful temptations, 
buffetings, and workings of depravity, are necessary to counter- 
act the pernicious effects of this poison. It is, indeed, the first 
and last prayer, which I wish my friends to offer up for me, 
that I may be kept humble ; and if your too great and un- 
deserved affection for me will exert itself in this way — that 
is, in praying for me — it may preserve your gourd from the 
blast and the worm. 

^* Mr. R. remains very much the same. His physicians give 
but faint hopes of his recovery. Why am not I cut down, and 
he spared ? O, I am tired of receiving innumerable mercies 
without gratitude, and of committing innumerable sins without 

suitable sorrow That word rest grows exceedingly sweet 

to me. O, ^^ when shall I fly away, and be at rest ? 

'^ The work still goes on. Dr. 's church have, in some 

measure, caught the flame, and compelled their ministers, re- 
luctantly, I believe, to set up conferences. They have said so 
much against evening meetings, that it is hard now to set them 
up. But they are obliged to do it ; and, to use the language of 
the world, the town is in danger of growing madder than ever." 

Confidence in the wisdom and goodness of divine providence 
usually reconciles the Christian to trials, and sustains him under 
the occurrence of events, which, at the time, are wholly inex- 
plicable. He rests on the kind assurance of his Redeemer, 
"What thou knowest not now, thou shalt know hereafter." 
And, through this promise refers him to a period beyond the 
confines of mortality, when the light of heaven shall beam on 
the intricacies of Providence, and put to flight the darkness 
which envelopes them ; yet, even in the present world, he is oflen 



164 MEMOIR OF 

surprised with discoveries of the design and tendency of such 
dispensations, which render him grateful for them, and cause 
him to bless God, who made them a part of his paternal disci- 
pline. In retracing his path through life, he sees his most 
dreaded calamities connected with his choicest mercies, his 
lowest depression with his highest elevation — and so connect- 
ed, that, without the former, the latter would not have been. 
That which threatened the destruction of his ability to do good, 
he finds to be his highest qualification for usefulness. 

Such are the developements which already begin to appear in 
the history of this afflicted and beloved man. Henceforth, the 
reader will revert to the dark shades of the past with more of 
complacency, and cease to look even upon his seasons of heart- 
rending spiritual anguish, as worse than blank portions of ex- 
istence. He suffered not for himself alone ; the Church of the 
Redeemer was indirectly, yet largely benefited by what he en- 
dured ; and many of her members were, probably, prevented 
from making shipwreck of faith, and sinking into irrecoverable 
despondency, in consequence of having for a guide and coun- 
sellor one who had narrowly escaped a similar catastrophe. 
The amount of suffering, which his own mental agony was thus 
the occasion of preventing, will not be known till the great 
day. But, long before he exchanged his armor for the victor's 
crown, he could appropriate the language of Paul — / now re- 
joice in my sufferings for you, and Jill up that which is behind 
of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh, for his body's sake, which 
is the church, 

^^ Portland, Aug. 8, 1810. 
"My dearest Sister, 

" I have nothing interesting to write, and my spirits are so 
completely jaded and exhausted, that they will not bear the 
fatigue of invention. I cannot spiritualize, nor moralize, but 
must confine myself to dull narration ; and, what is still worse, 
have nothing to narrate. I have, indeed, one piece of good 
news, though you have, probably, heard of it ere this. Mr. R. 
is better, and there are great hopes of his recovery. His com- 
plaints, I believe, are precisely similar to mine. 

" We go on here pretty much as usual. Satan is extremely 
busy with Christians, and a large proportion of our church 
have been, and still are, exercised with the most dreadful and 
distressing temptations. I now understand the reason of my 
dreadful trials at Marlborough. Had it not been for them, I 
should have been still more unfit for my present situation, than 
I am at present. Often should I be utterly at a loss what to 



EDWARD PAYSON. Jgg 

say or think, had not a wise and gracious Master foreseen 
what I should need, and taken measures accordingly. 

" He has been pleased, of late, to bless my endeavors to com- 
fort his tempted and distressed people with wonderful success. 
I often stand astonished at it myself, and seem to look upon it 
as a greater honor and favor, than even to be owned in the 
conversion of sinners. If I can be permitted to do this, I 
seem willing to stay and suffer every thing which he sees fit 
to lay upon me. But I tremble at what may be the conse- 
quence. Those who find my endeavors blessed to comfort 
them, of course, grow more and more affectionate ; and I fear 
lest they prove guilty of creature-idolatry, and thus provoke 
God to wither their gourd. I have warned them of the danger 
of this in private, and have, at last, openly preached against 
it ; but God does not seem to bless it to their conviction, and, 
I fear, we shall both smart for it. He is a jealous God, and if 
his people put a servant in his place, wo be to the poor crea- 
ture who is thus set up against him. Pray for me, therefore, 
and pray for my people. When I ask them to pray for me, 
they only smile, and reply, that I need not their prayers. In 
short, we are all young here, and have little experience ; and 
if God does not prevent, we shall rush into all manner of ex- 
travagance. 

" Since I wrote last, I have been to preach at a place near 
this, where they have been stupid almost to a proverb. But I 
hear now, that conference meetings are set up ; the minister is 
roused ; and many are earnestly inquiring what they shall do. 

" Another minister, who lives about miles from this, has 

lately rode into town, week after week, to attend our lectures. 
He told his people, that, though he had to hire a horse, yet he 
was always amply repaid. He has been very lax, but a great 
alteration has taken place in his preaching and conduct, and 
there is considerable attention excited among his people. 

'^ After all this, you will not wonder to hear that I am borne 
down with heavy burdens ; pressed out of strength above 
measure, so as, at times, to despair even of life. All this is 
necessary, absolutely necessary, and I desire to consider it 
as a mercy ; but it is hard, very hard to bear. If any one 
asks to be made a successful minister, he knows not what he 
asks ; and it becomes him to consider, whether he can drink 
deeply of Christ's bitter cup, and be baptized with his baptism. 
If we could learn, indeed, to give all the glory to God, and keep 
only the sin and imperfections to ourselves, we might be spared 
these trials. And one would think this easy enough One 
would think, that Jonah could hardly be proud of his success 



156 MEMOIR OF 

among the Ninevites ; and we have, if possible, less reason to 
be proud than he. But pride will live and thrive without rea- 
son, and in despite of every reason to the contrary." 

" Portland, Sept. 20, 1810. 
^'My dear Sister, 

" I thank you most sincerely for your letter, which I have 
just received ; but I do not thank you at all for the reason 
which you assign for not writing more frequently. It seems, 
forsooth, that I am so wonderfully wise and good, that you 
dare not write me. My dear sister, this is little better than 
downright mockery — not that I suspect you of a design to 
mock me — but your commendations, however sincere, are 
cutting, very cutting, and I beg of you to wound me no more 
with them. Go and congratulate a wretch on the rack upon 
the happiness which he enjoys ; tell a beggar of his riches, 
an illiterate peasant of his learning, or a deformed cripple of 
his strength and beauty ; but mock not a vile, stupid sinner, 
ready to sink under an almost insupportable weight of guilt 
and iniquity, with commendations of his goodness, or a blind, 
ignorant creature with compliments upon his wisdom and 
knowledge. You are ready, perhaps, to look upon my situa- 
tion as enviable ; but, if you knew what I suffer in a single 
day, you would fall down on your knees, and bless God that 
you are not a minister. Not that I consider it as a small favor 
to be placed in this sacred office, and honored with some de- 
gree of acceptance and success. I know it is a post which an 
angel might envy, and I can never, to all eternity, bless God 
sufficiently for putting me into it, and supporting me under 
the pressure of its duties. I would not part with the privilege 
of preaching Christ crucified to perishing sinners, and of ad- 
ministering to the consolation of God's afflicted people, to be 
made monarch of the world. But O the agonies, the unutter- 
able, inconceivable agonies, which must be endured by those 
who attempt, with such a heart as mine, to perform this work ! 
I shudder with horror, to think of the scenes through which I 
have been obliged to pass, and shrink back from those through 
which I must yet pass before I reach the rest prepared for the 
people of God. It is, however, some comfort, that the time, 
when I shall quit this scene of trial, cannot be far distant. 
Nature cannot long hold out under what I endure ; and I 
trust that, ere many years, I shall be safe in the grave, where 
the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. 
If, meanwhile, I may be preserved from insanity, and from 
wounding the cause of Christ, by falling into open wicked* 



EDWARD PAYSON. I57 

ness, it is all I ask for, and perhaps more than I have any 
reason to expect. It is a dreadful thought, that no Christian 
on earth, however holy, humble, and watchful he may at pres- 
ent be, has any security against falling into open sin before 
he dies. As to resolving that we will not thus fall, it avails 
nothing. As well might a stone resolve not to fall, when the 
power which upheld it is removed. You will, perhaps, say, 
We may hope that God will uphold us for the sake of his cause. 
So David might have hoped. It seemed very important that 
he should be preserved — and yet, how he fell ! And what 
reason, then, have I to hope that I shall not fall ? And, if I 
should, it would injure the cause of religion infinitely more 
thaji all my labors will ever advance it.'' 

The following letter is without date, but cannot be materi- 
ally out of its place : — 

" My health remains much the same. — I have enjoyed more 
in religion, since my last journey to Rindge, than during my 
whole ministry before. My distressing exercises have vanish- 
ed — I sometimes hope, never to return ; and my thoughts are 
so unusually drawn upward, that I cannot avoid concluding 
that my stay on earth is to be but short. My church are many 
of them of the same opinion. They tell me they are certain 
that I shall not continue with them long. Sometimes I am 
tempted to wish that my expectations may soon be realized. 
At others, I wish to stay a little longer, and tell sinners what 
a precious Saviour Jesus is. But the Lord's will be done. 
Welcome life, welcome death, welcome any thing from his 
hand. The world — O what a bubble — what a trifle it is ! 
Friends are nothing, fame is nothing, health is nothing, life 
is nothing ; Jesus, Jesus is all ! O what will it be to spend 
an eternity in seeing and praising Jesus ! to see him as he is, 
to be satisfied with his likeness ! O, I long, I pant, I faint 
with desire to be singing, Worthy is the Lamb — to be extol- 
ling the riches of sovereign grace — to be casting the crown at 
the feet of Christ ! And why may w^e riot do all this on earth? 
My dearest sister, we may do it, if it is not our own fault. 
Pause a moment, and try to conceive how they feel, and what 
they are this moment doing in heaven. Pause and reflect till 
you hear their songs, and feel your heart glow with their love. 
Then shout aloud, *' Worthy is the Lamb ; for thou wast slain, 
and hast redeemed me by thy blood. Worthy is the Lamb, 
who was slain, to receive glory, and blessing, and honor, and 
power !" But I must desist. 



168 MEMOIR OF 

" Remember me most affectionately to our dear parents ; 
and I hope that they and you are willing that I should go to 
heaven first." 



''Portland, Dec, 10, 1810. 
'^ My dearest Mother, 

'* Since my return, it has pleased my adorable Saviour, in 
his sovereign mercy, to give me clearer and more transporting 
views of himself than I have ever before enjoyed ; and I have 
no leisure or thoughts to bestow on any thing else. He has 
brought me up out of the horrible pit, where I have so long 
been sinking, and put a new song in my mouth ; and O that 
all creation would join with me in singing his praises ! I have 
sometimes heard of spells and charms to excite love, and have 
wished for them, when a boy, that I might cause others to love 
me. But how much more do I now wish for some charm 
which should lead men to love the Saviour ! What would I 
not give for the power to make sinners love him — for the fac- 
ulty of describing his beauties and glories in such a manner 
as to excite warmer affections towards him in the hearts of 
Christians ! Could I paint a true likeness of him, methinks 
I should rejoice to hold it up to the view and admiration of all 
creation, and be hid behind it forever. It would be heaven 
enough to hear him praised and adored, though no one should 
know or care about insignificant me. But I cannot paint 
him ; I cannot describe him ; I cannot make others love him ; 
nay, I cannot love him a thousandth part so much as I ought 
myself I faint, I sink under the weight of infinite, insupport- 
able obligations. O for an angel's tongue — O for the tongues 
often thousand angels, to sound his praises ! I would fain do 
something for him, but I can do nothing. I cannot even at- 
tempt to do any thing without his grace ; and the more I am 
enabled to do in his service, so much the more is the load of 
obligation increased. O that God, who alone is able, would 
glorify his Son ! This, at present, is all my salvation, and all 
my desire, that Christ may be glorified. For this reason, I 
long and pray for a revival. I long that the blessed Jesus 
should receive some more suitable returns for his wondrous 
love to our ruined race. We are hoping that this will be the 
case here. I hope the church begin to awake and pray more 
earnestly than ever, and that we shall yet see hundreds here 
praising the ever-blessed Redeemer. It seems of no conse- 
quence what becomes of me. It seems of no consequence 
what becomes of sinners, comparatively speaking. But, O, it 
is of infinite consequence that Christ should be glorified. My 



EDWARD PAYSON. ^QQ 

dearest mother, do strive to love him more than ever. Do 
strive to make others love him. O, if it was not for a hope of 
doing something for his glory, how could we be content to live 
a single hour absent from his presence above ! 

" I shall not wonder if you think me mad. I have been 
mad, and am just beginning to see my madness. O how little 
zeal, how little love, have I manifested ! How madly have I 
misimproved my time and talents ! how wretchedly neglect- 
ed the all-important work to which I am called ! how un- 
gratefully requited the best of Saviours ! How often have I 
called his love and faithfulness in question, at the very time 
he was taking the best possible measures to promote my hap- 
piness 1 Now he returns to humble me, and shame me for 
my folly and ingratitude. O, I know not how to bear this 
astonishing, overwhelming goodness ! Methinks I could bear 
his anger — but his love cuts me to the heart. O that I may 
be dumb, and not open my mouth any more, since he is paci- 
fied towards me for all that I have done ! O that, for the re- 
mainder of life, I could hear of nothing, think of nothing, 
speak of nothing, but the wonders of his person, his charac- 
ter, and redeeming love ! But, unless he prevents it, I shall 
wander again, and act over, not only once, but often, all my 
past sins. It seems now infinitely better to die, than to be 
guilty of this ; but he knows, and will do, what is best." ; 

" Dec. 16. Sabbath. This day completes three years since 
my ordination. What a miserable, unprofitable servant have 
I been ! In the afternoon, preached, with much difficulty, 
from Ezekiel, xxxiii. 7-9. Was much aflfected, and my hearers 
appeared scarcely less so. Came home excessively fatigued, 
but rejoicing in God." 

This year, forty-two souls were gathered into the church, 
15 



170 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER XII. 

Holy aspirations — Gratitude to the Saviour — Multiplied la- 
bors — Novel family scene — Danger averted — " Curious 
frame " — Flattery deprecated — His marriage — Becomes 
sole pastor of the churcli — Retrospect of the year, 

*^ Dec, 17, 1810. I now commence the fourth year of my 
ministry. Whether I shall live to finish it God only knows. 
O that it may be spent to better purpose than those which are 
passed ! 

" Dec. 29. Felt the blessed effects of casting all my cares 
upon him who careth for me. In family prayer, was most un- 
usually drawn out towards God, and felt as much like an in- 
habitant of heaven as I ever expect to feel here. All earthly 
objects were swallowed up ; self appeared to be nothing, and 
God to be all in all. Felt as if my time on earth would be 
short. I was in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart 
and be with Christ, and yet wishing to stay, that I might tell 
others what a precious Saviour he is. But the Lord's will be 
done. Welcome any thing which he pleases to send. 

^^ Dec. 31. Spent the day in visiting. In the evening, met 
a number of Christian friends, and had a sweet season in con- 
versing upon heaven. Our hearts seemed to burn within us, 
and it was a little foretaste of heaven." 

These quotations furnish pretty fair specimens of his reli- 
gious feelings for several months, excepting those intervals 
when he was greatly reduced and disheartened by sickness. 
On emerging from the darkness of such a season, he writes : — 

**Jan. 10, 1811. This morning, God was pleased to return, 
and lift me out of the dust. The great comforts with which I 
was favored, some time since, rendered me proud, and I need- 
ed a season of darkness to humble me. Had much freedom, 
and some brokenness of heart, this morning, in secret and 
family prayer, and some ability to plead with God not to for- 
sake us. O how sovereign and free is his grace 1" 

Under the same date, he writes to his mother : — 



EDWARD PAYSON. 171 

" Last Sabbath was communion with us. I preached from 
Zech. iii. 2 : Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire ? What 
a just and striking description of every redeemed sinner ! and 
what a glorious idea does it afford us of the work of redemp- 
tion ! To snatch a smoking brand from eternal burnings, and 
plant it among the stars in the firmament of heaven, there to 
shine like the sun forever — O, what a glorious work is this ! 
a work worthy of God ! a work which none but God could 
perform. Such a brand am I — a brand yet smoking with 
the half-extinguished fires of sin ; a brand, scorched and black- 
ened by the flames of hell. What then do I owe to him, who 
entered the furnace of divine wrath, that he might bring me 
out ! who spread himself over me as a shield fi*om that fiery 
storm, which would have set me forth an example, like Sodom, 
suffering the vengeance of eternal fire. 

" I have no heart to speak or write about any thing but Jesus ; 
and yet I have little patience to write about him in our miserably 
defective language. O for a language suitable to speak his 
praises, and describe his glory and beauty ! But they cannot 
be described — they cannot be conceived; for "no man know- 
eth the Son, but the Father." ¥/hat a wonderful idea does 
that text give us of the Son ! Saints in heaven do not know 
him perfectly ; even the angels do not. None but the Father 
is able to comprehend all his excellence. Yet various, great, 
unsearchable, infinite, as are his excellences, they are all ours ; 
our Saviour, our Head, "our flesh and our bone." O, won- 
der ! — how passing wonder is this ! Methinks, if I could bor- 
row, for a moment, the archangel's trump, and make heaven, 
earth and hell resound with " Worthy is the Lamb that was 
slain!" I could contentedly drop into nothing. But no — I 
should wish to live, and make them resound with his name 
through eternity. What a transporting thought — to spend an 
eternity in exalting God and the Lamb ; in beholding their glory, 
and hearing them extolled by all creatures ! — this is heaven in- 
deed. To be swallowed up and lost in God; to have our 
spirits embraced, wrapped up in his all-infolding Spirit; to 
forget ourselves, and think only of him ; to lose, in a manner, 
our own separate existence, and exist only in him ; to have his 
glory all in all to us ; — this is, indeed, a far more exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory." 

About a month later, he gives this account of their spiritual 
prospects : — " Our hopes of increasing attention begin to revive 
again. Some recent instances of conviction have taken place, 
and we have about thirty very serious inquirers. The churchy 



172 MEMOIR OF 

too, are more roused, and we have as yet had no scandals 
among us for the world to take hold of. I cannot but hope, 
that God designs to raise up a church here, which will shine 
bright, and be like a city set on a hill. Satan buffets them 
sorely ; but the more he buifets them, the faster they grow. I 
hope yet, if God pleases, to see seated with us at the com- 
munion table. It would, I doubt not, rejoice your very heart.' ' 

Some idea of the variety and amount of his labors may be 
collected from a single sentence, which is incidentally intro- 
duced into a letter, dated February 17 : — ** I preach, or do what 
is, at least, as laborious, six nights in a week, besides talking, 
incessantly, a considerable part of every day." It is not im- 
probable, that, to his private intercourse, not less than his public 
addresses, the rapid prosperity of religion is to be ascribed. 
His inventive genius seemed to delight in finding out as many 
ways as possible, by which a religious influence might be 
brought to bear upon those to whom he had access. Take 
the following domestic scene as an illustration : it is unques- 
tionably the offspring of his own pious ingenuity ; for it bears 
as infallible marks of its parentage, as the description of it 
does of his pen : — 

" I will give you a little sketch of our family way of 

living, that you may adopt it if you please. In the first place, 
we have agreed, that, if either of us says a word, which tends 
in the least to the discredit of any person, the rest shall ad- 
monish the offender ; and this has entirely banished evil-speak- 
ing from among us. In the next place, we are careful, es- 
pecially in the early part of the day, as at breakfast, to con- 
verse on nothing which is inconsistent with maintaining a 
prayerful frame. Christians, I believe, generally think they 
do pretty well if they pray twice a day ; but I see not why we 
are not just as much commanded to pray without ceasing, as 
to pray at all. We sometimes, however, allow our minds a 
little relaxation at dinner, by conversing on other subjects 
than those which ate strictly religious. At the beginning of 
evening, before the candles are brought in, if I am at home, 
which is not very often the case, we all sit down, and take a 
little tour up to heaven, and see what they are doing there. 
We try to figure to ourselves how they feel, and how we shall 
feel, and what we shall do ; and often, while we are trying to 
imagine how they feel, our own feelings become more heaven- 
ly ; and sometimes God is pleased to open to us a door in 
heaven, so that we get a glimpse of what is transacting there — 



EDWARD PAYSON. I73 

and this fills us so full of impatience, that we can scarcely wait 
till death comes to carry us home. If we cannot get together 
before tea, for this purpose, we take a little time after prayers, 
before separating for the night ; and, I assure you, it forms an 
excellent preparative for sweet sleep. — But enough of this at 
present ; if you like it, I will tell you more by and by." 

"Fe^. 1811. 

-'* We have been in great danger from fire. It was truly 



of the Lord's mercies, that we were not consumed, with a con- 
siderable part of the town. Just as the water began to fail, and 
all hopes were over, the fire abated. I was so much fatigued 
by over exertion in removing our things, that I was miserably 
unwell for a fortnight, but am now recovered. Some ac- 
knowledge the goodness of God in sparing the town ; but others 
are dreadfully hardened. One poor creature, as soon as the 
fire was extinguished, cried out, '' Well^ we have got it out, 
but no thanks to Pay son, nor God neither." Another, after 
meeting, the ensuing Sabbath, observed, that he '* did not like 
this giving all the glory to God ; but that man ought to have, 
at least, some part of the glory of putting out the fire." This 
is, indeed, the natural language of every heart, but few like to 
express it so openly. 

*'I fear that religion is on the decline among us. There is 
still, however, considerable attention, and we have had a few 
remarkable instances of conversion." 

^^ March 1. Had a most violent headache, and was almost 
distracted ; yet was obliged to preach in the evening. Found 
many more present than I expected, and was unusually assist- 
ed, and the people were very solemn. Most gladly will I glory 
in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me ; 
for when I am weak, then I am strong." 

''Portland, March 25, 1811. 
''My DEAR Mother, 

" Satan rages most violently against Christ's sheep, and 

I am almost constantly employed in trying to counsel and com- 
fort them, under their manifold temptations. However, the 
more he rages, the faster they grow; though I have had se- 
rious fears respecting some of them, that they would lose life, 
or reason, or both. I now find why my gracious Master has 
suffered me to be so grievously tormented in times past. How 
miserably qualified should I otherwise have been to speak a 
yord in season to them that are weary ! — Still I, I, I ! nothing 
15* 



174 MEMOIFw OF 

but I's — seven in half a page. Well, I don't care — I am writ- 
ing to my mother, and I know she loves to hear about I ; so I 
will proceed, and tell her about a half-sleeping, half-waking 
dream I had the other morning. If it does her as much good 
as it did me, it won't be paper lost. 

** After a curious kind of frame in sleep, I waked myself up 
\yith exclaiming — ^* Lord, why is it that thou art never weary 
of heaping favors on ungrateful, perverse, stubborn wretches, 
who render thee only evil for good ?" In a moment, he seem- 
ed to reply as powerfully as if he had spoken with an audible 
voice — ** Because I am never weary of gratifying my dear Son, 
and showing the greatness of my love to him. Till I am weary 
of him, and cease to love him, I shall never be weary of heap- 
ing favors on his friends, however unworthy."— These words, 
it is true, contain nothing more than an obvious truth ; but 
they conveyed more to my mind than all the books I ever read. 
If you meditate upon them, perhaps they may convey some- 
thing to yours. What strong confidence are they suited to 
inspire, if we realize their full import ! How will they encour- 
age us to ask and expect great things, notwithstanding oui 
inexpressible unworthiness ! Never before did the scheme of 
redemption, and the great mystery of God manifest in the 
flesh, appear so great and glorious. While meditating upon it, 
I was wonderfully struck with a reason which never occurred 
to me before, why God permitted Adam to fall. Had he stood, 
ail his posterity would have been happy. He would, therefore, 
in one sense, have been their Saviour ; and while they were 
enjoying the happiness of lieaven, they would have exclaimed, 
" For all this we are indebted to our first parent." This 
would have been too great an honor for any finite being. It 
would have tempted Adam to pride, and us to idolatry. The 
honor, therefore, was reserved for God's own Son, the second 
Adam. — But perhaps this has occurred to you before ; so I will 
not enlarge. 

'' Mr. R. is still in miserable health. He will take a journey 
in the s})ring. If that does not help him, we shall think him 
irrecoverable. I fear he is too good to stay long on earth. 



** You must not, certainly, my dear mother, say one word, 
which even looks like an intimation that you think me advanc- 
ing in grace. I cannot bear it. Every body here, whether 
friends or enemies, are conspiring to ruin me. Satan and my 
own heart, of course, will lend a hand ; and if you join too, I 
fear all the col J water, w hich Christ can throw upon my pride. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 175 

will not prevent it from breaking out into a destructive flame. 
As certainly as any body flatters and caresses me, my Father 
has to whip me for it ; and an unspeakable mercy it is, that he 
condescends to do it. I can, it is true, easily muster a hun- 
dred good reasons why I should not be proud ; but pride won't 
mind reason, nor any thing else but a good drubbing. Even at 
this moment, I feel it tingling in my fingers' ends, and seeking 
to guide my pen." 

" April 4. Spent the forenoon in writing. In the after- 
noon, attended the inquiry meeting, and was refreshed by see- 
ing a number of new inquirers. The Spirit of God seemed to 
be present. In the evening, attended another, and found one 
who had obtained comfort. Came home exceedingly fatigued, 
but rejoicing in God. 

" Aprils. Had some sense of my own weakness, and some 
lonorino: desires that God would meet with us. Had a most 
solemn, joyful, and refreshing season, and trust it was highly 
profitable to the church, but was myself exceedingly overcome. 

^' April 6. Was exceedingly happy all day. Enjoyed the 
peace of God, which passeth understanding. 

'* April 8. Miserably weak, both in body and mind, and 
exceedingly wretched most of the day. The light of my soul 
was withdrawn from me. O, what a miserable wretch am I, 
when Christ is absent ! It is, however, necessary that he should 
sometimes withdraw ; and I was enabled to realize that it was 
love, which induced him to hide his face, and I submitted to it 
without one murmur in o^ thought." 

On the eighth of May, Mr. Payson was married to Ann 
Louisa Shipiman, of New Haven, Connecticut, — a woman of 
kindred piety, and whose energy and firmness of character, 
connected with other estimable accomplishments, proved his 
best earthly support, and an abiding check upon his constitu- 
tional tendency to depression. Female affection and ingenui- 
ty could not have been better directed, or more signally honor- 
ed and rewarded. In the acquisition of such a "help-meet," 
he justly considered himself as ' having obtained favor of the 
Lord.' 

It has been alleged, perhaps without sufficient reason, that 
ministers, as a class, are chargeable, beyond others, with fail- 
ures in what relates to this most delicate and important con- 
nexion. The truth is, their errors of this kind attract more 
notice, and are more injurious. But the fact, that the peace 
and welfare of so many, as well as his own usefiilness, are ma- 



176 MEMOIR OF 

terially affected by the character of a pastor's wife, deserves 
the consideration of all who are still in a situation to profit by 
it. A chapter might be compiled from Mr. Payson's letters, 
which would be of great use to the tilerical candidate for wed- 
lock, who was anxious to know the best method of conducting 
the preliminary intercourse ; but the favored object of his con- 
jugal attachment still survives, and her right to the early avow- 
als and precious testimonials of his faithful love is sole and 
exclusive. Still, an instructive exhibition of his views and of 
his practice may be made, without any indelicate infringement 
of this right. 

He wholly avoided those " entangling alliances,'' in early 
youth, which have doom^ed many a man, either to take to his 
bosom one, whom, though once his equal, he had so far out- 
stripped in the career of mental improvement, as to produce a 
most mortifying disparity, and preclude the hope of ever find- 
ing in his wife a companion fitted for rational intercourse ; — 
or else, to desert the confiding female, whose affections he had 
gained, — an alternative, too base for an honorable-minded man 
to adopt. Mr. Payson's circumspection is the more remarkable, 
when his ardent temperament is considered: and yet, as early 
as 1805, the following sober views are expressed in a letter to 
his sister : — 

'^ When I was at home, I thought you appeared rather ap- 
prehensive, that I should form some connexion, which, to say 
the least, would be no help to my religious pursuits. But you 
may lay aside this fear. I have seen so much of my own 
proneness to turn aside, that it is, and I hope ever will be, my 
resolution, not to fetter myself with any voluntary inducements 
to stray. Besides, I think no precept in the Bible is plainer 
than that which forbids us to yoke together with unbelievers. 
However, I think it probable enough, that this resolution may 
be the occasion of my dying a bachelor ; but I am not at all 
anxious about it." 

When his purpose was fixed to live no longer " a bachelor," 
the course which he pursued revealed the source from which 
he always took his lessons. It was as closely conformed to 
scriptural example as that of any modern suitor, — having little 
more of formality than that of the patriarchs of the Old Testa- 
ment. Still, he did not court in sackcloth, as is evident from a 
note, written on returning from his first visit, and addressed to his 
moth 3r, whom, like a dutiful son, he had previously consulted : 



EDWARD PAYSON. I77 

"^ Exeter, Wed. Eve. 
' My dearest Mother, 

" As I know the deep interest you take in every thing which 
concerns your son, I will go no farther, before I inform you of 
the result of the business on which we conversed, while I was 
at home, I cannot, indeed, go into particulars ; but it may be 
some gratification to you to know, that the business is conclud- 
ed on, and nothing remains but to fix the wedding day. On 
this point alone we differed. * * * 

" And now, my dearest mother, you must permit me to exult 
over you a little. When I used to talk of getting a wife with- 
out losing any time about it, you laughed at the idea, and 
thought it preposterous, impracticable, and absurd. But you 
see, that, without going a mile purposely out of my way, or 
losing a single hour, I have found and courted, or rather Prov- 
idence has found for me, a person, who bids fairer to render 
me happy than any other woman I have seen. It is true, 
many things may yet intervene to prevent the contemplated 
connexion ; but, humanly speaking, it will take place. And 
if it does not, I trust that I shall be resigned, and feel satisfied 
that it is for the best. * * * At present, God seems to 
have made my way prosperous ; and T am more than ever per- 
suaded, that tilt; best way to succeed in any of our temporal 
concerns, is to cast them upon him — have nothing to do with 
them — and devote ourselves entirely to the advancement of his 
cause. True, he only can excite us to adopt this course ; but 
when he does, it is an almost infallible symptom of success " 

His mother must have held a pen of rare and various pow- 
ers — as piquant in satire as it was judicious in counsel, and 
soothing in consolation. She might have thought him affect- 
edly singular in his notions of matrimony, and directed her 
strokes accordingly. At any rate, he is seen smarting under 
her castigation, in the following letter, which, by the way, is a 
very serious one, and discloses a heart alive to the danger of 
being diverted, by creature attachments, from the Lord of his 
affections : — 

^' I am sorry you are never pleased with me, when I 

write on a certain subject. I fear this letter will appear as 
little pleasing as any of its predecessors. Since I wrote last, I 

have made another visit to A . Circumstances, which I 

could not foresee, rendered it indispensably necessary. I took 
care not to be absent either on a Sabbath or lecture day ; yet 
I felt very guilty in appropriating so much of my Master's time 



178 MEMOIR OF 

to my own use. A voice seemed continually sounding in my 
ears — " What dost thou here, Elijah ?" Had it not been for 
this, I verily believe Louisa and I should have taken a trip to 
Rindge. * * * gut the idea of forming new^ ties to bind 
myself to the world, is dreadful. I thought, at the time, that I 
sincerely sought divine direction ; but I have since been afraid 
that I did not. However, I know that the Lord reigns, and that 
he will take care of his glory ; and this is enough for me. As to 
my happiness here, it is nothing. I neither expect any happi- 
ness, nor wish for any, separate from that which arises from 
serving and enjoying God. It is but a day, an hour, a mo- 
ment, and all will be over. 

" But, my dearest Mother, how could you vrrite as you 

did respecting the views and feelings which my letter express- 
ed ? It was cruel to banter me so ; at least, if any other per- 
son, of as long standing in religion as you, had written in such 
a manner, I should have been sure she was bantering me, and 
ridiculing my weakness. I shall be afraid to express my feel- 
ings again ; and, indeed, I did not intend to do it then, but 
they ran away with me before I was aware. You talk of my 
heights and depths — Yes, I am deep, indeed, in guilt, and my 
iniquities arc high as the heavens. These are all the heights 
and depths of which I know any thing. Compared with old 
Christians, I am but a babe of yesterday ; and joys, which to 
them would appear things of course, are sufficient to make my 
weak head run round. It was for this reason I thought my 
letter must appear a foolish rhapsody. But I will not say 
another word on the subject, lest you should suppose I am 
aping humility." 

The considerations by which he defended himself against 
the fear of possible disappointment, which some communica 
tion of his cautious parent was adapted to excite, are striking 
and full of interest. To estimate aright his indifference, as to 
the developements of the future, it should be remembered that 
the negotiation had already proceeded too far to render an 
honorable retreat optional with him. The pledge " for better 
or for worse," had been virtually interchanged ; and the result, 
whether fruition or disappointment, he was determined should 
subserve his spiritual welfare : — 

"My dearest Mother, 

" I am very sorry you think me so heterodox in my no- 
tions respecting matrimony ; but I cannot alter them. * ♦ * 
Have I not the best possible security, that all things shall work 



EDWARD PAYSON. 179 

together for my good. I shall certainly have a good wife, and 
be very happy with her, if God sees best ; but if he sees a bad 
wife is a necessary trial for me, who am I, that I should ob- 
ject ? I should certainly feel very easy about my present wel- 
fare, did it depend entirely on your good wishes to render me 
happy. How much more reason, then, have I to be easy, 
since it depends on my Father and Saviour ! If I wanted just 
such a world as this, for my own private accommodation, me- 
thinks I could go and ask it of my Saviour, just as freely as I 
would ask him for a straw. He, who refused not his own 
blood, surely would not refuse me such a trifle as a world, 
which he could make with a word, if he saw that it was really 
necessary to my happiness. Why, then, should I feel the least 
possible anxiety about a wife 1 or waste my Master's time in 
seeking one ?" 

A few short extracts will be sufficient to show the nature 
and manner of his intercourse with the friend to whom he 
was affianced : — 

^^ After all, we shall be just as much to each other as 

our Maker pleases. He can, and I trust will, render us as hap- 
py as it is best we should be in this life, and make us a blessing 
to each other. With his permission, I purpose to observe Fri- 
day, Dec. 7th, as a day of prayer for his blessing upon our 
union, should he permit it to take place. I trust your prayers 
will ascend with mine. 

^ * T? TT 

" I was delighted with what you wrote respecting our pre- 
cious and adorable Saviour. You cannot find a quicker and 
surer way to my heart, than by praising and loving him. 
* * * He is worthy, he is precious indeed. To the power, 
the majesty, the glory of God, he unites the gentleness, the 
tenderness, the sympathy of a friend and brother. This is 
just such a Saviour as we need. 

^F tt ^if ^If 

" I arrived, last evening, much fatigued. My journey, 
though quickly performed, was not unattended with danger. 
Owing to the weakness of the harness, or the carelessness of 
the driver, the horses ran away with us no less than three 
times, and were stopped only for want of power to proceed. 
For some minutes, we expected, every instant, to be dashed in 
pieces, and my fellow passengers were not a little frightened ; 
but I knew that my heavenly Father held the reins, and felt 
unusually happy. 



180 MEMOIR OF 

"It is a sufficient answer to your admonitions re- 
specting my health, to say, that it has rather improved than 
otherwise the year past ; and shall I, then, distrust the power 
and goodness of God, and endeavor, by diminishing my la- 
bors, to lay up a stock of health for a future period, which, 
after all, I may never live to see ? . 
* # * * 

** I have suffered every conceivable kind of spiritual distress 
myself, and have seen too much of the good effects of it to be 
much grieved when I see others suffering the same. I know 
that Christ is with them in the furnace, and will bring them 
forth as gold ; and, therefore, though I sympathize with them 
I am rather pleased than sorry to see them distressed. . . . 
I have long considered a growing acquaintance with the 
desperate wickedness and surpassing deceitfulness of the 
heart, as almost the only mark of a real Christian, which Sa- 
tan cannot counterfeit." 

From a union, formed on such principles, the happiest re- 
sults were to be expected. That gracious Being, whose bless- 
ing they had supplicated, more than answered their requests. 
On taking possession of the habitation prepared for their re- 
ception, they entered on their new condition as a separate 
family, with special acknowledgments of God. " In the even- 
ing," says the diary, " had a meeting by way of dedicating our 
house. It was a very solemn, melting season. Afterwards, was 
greatly favored in secret prayer. Knew not how to give over 
praying, the employment was so sweet. Could scarcely ask 
any thing for myself, but only that God might be glorified." — 
He lost no time in making his mother a partaker of his joy : — 

^' My dearest Mother, 

*^ I must tell you how happy I am ; happy, not because 1 
have one of the best of wives ; not because I live in the midst 
of a grateful and affectionate people ; not because I am sur- 
rounded by an abundance of the good things of this life ; but 
because I enjoy God in all these things. 

** We went to house-keeping yesterday. I felt, in some 
measure, as I wished to feel on such an occasion. It was a 
blessed evening, and this has been a blessed morning. — My 
dearest mother, I must let my heart have vent. — All my days, 
I have grieved, provoked, and dishonored God, and he has 
done nothing but heap favors, and pardons, and honors upon 
me. O, it affects me, to think of his goodness. O that all 
the world knew how vile I have been, and how good he has 



EDWARD PAYSON. Igl 

been in return Could Christians know his dealings with 
such a wretch, they would surely never, never distrust him 
again. And yet I, who do know it, sliall distrust him again. 
I shall again grieve and provoke him, as in times past, and, 
perhaps, be left to bring a reproach upon religion. I never 
felt myself to be so much in danger as at this moment. I am 
happy in my own soul — happy in my external circumstances ; 
but I rejoice with trembling. I dare not resolve that I will 
not suffer myself to be led away or lifted up. I dare not say, 
that, by to-morrow, I shall not feel stupid and ungrateful as a 
block ; or even full of rage and enmity as a devil. But I nev- 
er felt more able to hang upon Christ, and trust him to keep 
me up. He knows, I trust, it is my earnest desire to be strip- 
ped of all my blessings, and left utterly destitute, rather than 
be drawn by them away from him. 

" My people have been wonderfully kind. As soon as we 
got into our house, they sent us two cart-loads of provisions, 
&/C. &/C., including every article, however trifling, which could 
be wanted in a family. This was kind in them, but still more 
kind in my heavenly Father. O, may I never forget, that, 
whoever may be the stream. He is the Fountain. 

** And now, my dearest mother, what more shall I say? 
You have nothing to wish for, nothing to pray for, as it re- 
spects your happy son, but that he may not be rendered sloth- 
ful, or vain, or proud, by prosperity ; that his love and zeal for 
his divine Master may increase with his mercies, and that he 
may be prepared for a day of adversity ; for such a day must 
come. Well, let it come, if God so pleases. Welcome any 
thinoj that he sees fit to send. 

*' Notwithstanding your fears, I do not yet love my parents 
one whit less than before. It almost doubles my happiness to 
think of their sharing it/' 

On his birth-day, next following this event, he writes: — 
** The past year has been one of the most important of my life. 
I have seen much, very much of the goodness of God, and of 
my own vileness. I have formed a connexion which will 
have an influence lasting as eternity, and I have reason to 
hope that the divine blessing has attended it." 

Two letters will here be introduced, whose dates would as- 
sign them a later place, but w^hich are connected with the 
paragraphs just quoted, by the domestic nature of their con- 
tents. The second is from his mother, congratulating him 
upon the birth of his first-born, and must supply the place of 
16 



182 MEMOIR OF 

his own reflections on that event ; for at that time his diary is 
silent, and the letter which bore the tidings to his parents has 
not been preserved. ^ 

*' Portland, Jan. 20, 1812 
" My dearest Mother, 

*' Were you with us to-day, you would see a strange mix 
ture of joy and grief among us. Your letter to Grata, espe- 
cially that part of it which relates to my brothers, gave us as 
much joy as we can ever expect to feel, in one day, while inhab- 
itants of this changing world. It made our hearts leap within 
us to hear of poor Eben, or rather rich Eben, as I hope we 
may now call him. But — there must always be a but, till we 
get to heaven — the same mail, that brought this welcome in- 
telligence, brought a letter from New Haven, informing us of 
the death of Louisa's brother Henry. She is, of course, in 
great affliction, for she had little if any evidence that he was 
prepared for this event. I begin now to find, for the first 
time, that, by doubling myself, I have doubled my sorrows, and 
rendered myself a broader mark for the arrows of misfortune. 
However, I am content to meet with a few deductions from 
the happiness which wedlock affords. I should otherwise be 
almost too happy for my spiritual welfare. I am fully of your 
opinion, that marriage is a wonderfully wise and gracious in- 
stitution, and shows, in a striking point of light, the goodness 
of our heavenly Father. I am also convinced, that, when 
properly managed, it is no less favorable to religion. You 
will think that I write like a new-married man; and will, 
probably enough, conclude that, in a few years, I shall feel 
differently. It is very possible that I may ; but hitherto my 
happiness has been continually increasing. We are much 
more attached to each other than we were at first, and daily 
see new cause to admire the wisdom and goodness of him 
who fitted us for each other, and brought us together. I have, 
I may almost say, more temporal mercies than I wish for, and 
they are continually increasing ; they come without asking ; 
but neither by asking, nor in any other way, am 1 equally con- 
scious of obtaining those spiritual blessings, which I wish for, 
and which seem indispensably necessary. However, I do not 
flatter myself that my present happiness will continue long. 
Perhaps a few weeks will deprive me of her, whose society 
constitutes so large a share of it. God's will be done. I trust 
that he has, in some measure, prepared me for such an event. 
I have viewed it in every possible point of light ; and, so far 
as I can judge, feel willing, yes, blessed be his name ! perfect- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 1Q3 

ly willing, that he should do what he will with his own. * * * 
We shall have your prayers, I doubt not. O how much am I 
already indebted to them ! 

" I cannot close, without adverting again to the blessed 
change you mention in our family. Give my love to E. 
Charge H. and P. to strive as well as seek ; to repent and 
pray — and not to pray first, in order to repent afterwards. 
And urge Eliza to follow the example of her brothers, and re- 
member her Creator in the days of her youth." 

" March n, 1812. 
'^ My ever dear Son. 

" Your last was, indeed, fraught with precious tidings ; — 
and we are now to view you and your dear Louisa, as sustain 
ing a new, and very important relation in life. May gracious 
Heaven look with benignity upon this dear object of your mu- 
tual affections, and realize your best wishes in its behalf 
Precious babe ! already do I clasp it in my affections, and im- 
plore the blessing of Heaven upon it. Great is the fatigue, the 
care, the anxiety, of rearing a family ; but if it is performed 
aright, it is a blessed work. — You have yet to learn how diffi- 
cult the task, and how much patience, prudence, and grace, 
is requisite to qualify us to be faithful to the sacred trust de- 
posited in our keeping. Yet, for your encouragement, and as 
a debt of gratitude due to our most gracious Parent, I freely 
acknowledge myself amply compensated for all I have ever 
suffered or done for my Edward. Alas ! I have been exceed- 
ingly deficient in my duty to my children ; but with what in- 
effable goodness has God pardoned my unfaithfulness, and no- 
ticed every sincere attempt to discharge, in any measure, the 
important duties of a mother, and, in some instances, done 
more for them than I ever thought or asked. May He ena- 
ble you to receive this little one from his gracious hands, and, 
as he requires, bring it up for him. You were very kind to 
write me so soon ; it was a proof of affection, for which my 
heart thanks you — but we are looking impatiently for another 
letter. 

" Your good father* put on one of his best smiles, upon 

* The father of Mr. PaysoD; though he appears less prominent in this Me- 
moir than his mother, was, nevertlielesS; deservedly ranked amonff the first 
men in j>few Hampshire. Indeed, he stood high in the confidence of the relig- 
ious public throughout New England ; and his counsel and active exertions were 
much employed m promoting the general interests of literature and religion. 
In furtherance of these, he made several long journeys on horseback 5 once or 
twice as far as Philadelphia, on business for Dartmouth College, of which he 
was one of the Trustees. He was also a member of the American Board of 



184 MEMOIR or 

hearing he was a grandfather. '^ Ah I" he says, ^^what is it? 
a son, or a daughter?'' with other inquiries. He smiled 
when he read — " babe made the house ring ;" and observed, 
you would not want for music of that kind, he supposed. He 
is in very good health, and now attending a conference in a 
remote part of the town. * * * * 

" May you be guided safely amidst the innumerable snares 
which await our every step, and your path, like the rising light, 
shine more and more unto the perfect day. Thus prays 

*' Your affectionate Mother.'* 

In December, 1811, the sole care of the church and parish 
devolved on him, in consequence of the dissolution of the sen- 
ior pastor's relation to the church, agreeably to the advice of 
council mutually called. 

An event of this kind is usually of all-absorbing interest to 
a people, and seldom fails to divert attention from the impor- 
tant concern of personal religion. But such does not appear 
to have been the effect, in the present case, to any very lam- 
entable extent — the accession to the church, this year, being 
thirty-nine, and, the subsequent year, considerably greater than 
any preceding. He closed the labors of this year with a 
most seasonable discourse from 2 Cor. iv. 13, We also believe ^ 
and tlietefore spcalc; in which he attempted to state the prin- 
cipal doctrines which Paul professed to believe — to show that 
he did actually believe them — that he had sufficient reasons to 
believe them — and that this belief necessarily led him to preach 
and conduct in the manner he did. The sermon is a happy 
exemplification of ministerial address and of ministerial faith- 
fulness. He could not have taken a more unexceptionable 
method of presenting his own views, than by exhibiting what 
Paul believed and taught ; nor more completely have justified 
the earnestness vv'ith which he pressed them upon his hearers, 
than by bringing into view the momentous interests which they 
involve. To those who are familiar with the epistles of Paul, 
it is hardly necessary to say, that his sketch asserts the fall of 
man, and the consequent universal depravity of the human 
race ; and the other doctrines, peculiar to the Christian system, 
which necessarily result from this, respecting the personal 

Commissioners for Foreig-n Missions^ as was his son after him. His various 
public engagements^ in addition to his pastoral duties^ so engrossed his time, 
that the family corresi)ondence devolved almost entirely on Mrs. Payson, who 
held " the pen of a ready writer." It was unavoidable, therefore, that in a 
memoir, iiade up in part of epistolary correspondence, the mother should oc- 
cupy the more conspicuous place. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 185 

glories and mediatorial offices of Christ, and the way of a sin- 
ner's justification and acceptance with God. It was a popular 
and useful defence of evangelical doctrines, and of ministerial 
zeal, and was applied to the auditory with pungent force. 

His diary, during this year, authorizes some inferences be- 
sides that of his spirituality and devotion to his work. A few 
short extracts of each kind will form an appropriate conclusion 
to the chapter : — 

^^July 17. Heard much, to-day, of the rage of opposers; 
found others much discouraged by it. Was driven by it to the 
throne of grace, and there found unusual enlargement in plead- 
ing for the effusion of the Spirit. Never felt more drawn out 
in prayer for this, and could not help hoping that he would es- 
pouse our cause. Was deeply affected with the sovereign 
goodness of God. 

*' Aug. O, what a privilege it would be to have strength 
to labor all the time for God ! 

'^ Sept. 24, 25. Was called up at midnight by some mis- 
chievous person, and sent off to see a person said to be dying. 
. . . Found it a serious joke to me, for I took cold, and was 
sick several days. 

*' Sept. 29. Had a most refreshing season, this morning, in 
prayer. Felt most intense hatred of sin, and desired to be free 
from its pov/cr. 

'^ Oct. 5. Have been abundantly convinced, to-day, that it 
is not a vain thing to call upon God. Was remarkably assist- 
ed in preparing for to-morrow. In the evening, was favored 
with an uncommonly precious season in prayer. O, how dif- 
ferent does every thing appear, when God is present ! He is 
indeed all in all to me. 

" Oct. 8. Enjoyed a most delightful season in prayer. Had 
such strong confidence in God, from a view of his willingness 
to give, that I felt ready to ask and expect every thing in his 
power to bestow. Knew not how to stop, till I was utterly ex- 
hausted. 

" Oct. 10. Had some different views of Christ and heaven 
from any I ever before enjoyed, so that I felt the fullest assur- 
ance of salvation, and wished to be saved, that I might praise 
and love God perfectly. 

" Oct. 22. Was enabled to cast all my cares on the Lord, 
and felt lightened. Never did the Bible seem so sweet, never 
did the light of God's countenance seem so exquisitely precious 
as now ; nor did I ever more need it. 
16* 



186 MEMOIR OF 

" Oct. 24:. In the course of the day, saw an Indian. Was 
instantly struck, and much affected with a sense of his wretch- 
ed condition. Never had such feelings before. In the even- 
ing, had great freedom in praying for poor savages and others, 
who are destitute of the light of the gospel. 

" Nov. 7. Felt a little revived. Set up a little prayer meet- 
ing in my family, for a revival, and had some liberty. 

" Nov. 28. Had a most refreshing and delightful season in 
prayer this morning. Felt something of the life and power jof 
religion through the day. In the evening, preached, .... and 
was uncommonly assisted, and the people appeared much af- 
fected. Felt much gratitude to God for his assistance, and 
much encouraged respecting a revival.'' 



t^- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 187 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Forms ^f prayer — Thoughts on public prayer — His sincerity 
— The importance of this quality to a minister's success, 

" YotF would greatly oblige me by loaning me a copy of 
your prayer to-day," said a distinguished lady to Dr. Payson, 
as he was retiring from the house of worship on a memorable 
occasion. She was surprised on being told that it had van- 
ished with the breath which gave it utterance. This lady was 
not an attendant on his ministry, but had come, at this time, 
with the expectation of seeing La Fayette in the assembly, 
and, in common with many others, was filled with admiration 
of the intercessory part of the exercises, as differing from all 
she had ever heard, in richness and appropriateness of matter, 
as well as in fervor of utterance. Few, it is believed, ever 
heard him, for the first time, even in the family or on the most 
common occasion, without experiencing kindred emotions. 
The wonder, too, was enhanced, rather than diminished, by 
every repetition of the exercise. To those whose devotions 
he led for twenty years, in the sanctuary, in the conference 
room, by the sick bed, at festivals, and funerals, every prayer 
seemed to have all the freshness of originality. His resources 
for this duty appeared to be absolutely inexhaustible. There 
was something in his prayers powerful to arrest and fix atten- 
tion—something which seized and absorbed the faculties of 
the soul, and separated it, for the time being, at least, fi-om its 
connexions with " this present evil world." The full, deep, 
reverent, flexible, suppliant tones of his voice, as far removed 
from the cant of the fanatic as they were from the levity of 
the witling, contributed something to the effect of his public 
devotions. 

The question has been asked, by more than one distinguish- 
ed minister, since Dr. Payson's death, whether he left behind 
him any written -forms of prayer. So far firom this, it is be- 
lieved he never wrote a prayer. There are, indeed, inter- 
spersed throughout his private writings and sermons, numer- 
ous ejaculations and supplicatory paragraphs ; but nothing 
intended exclusively as a prayer. His " Confession and Form 
of Covenanl," in a preceding chapter, bears the nearest resem- 



188 MEMOIR OF 

blance to a prayer, of any thing which has been discoverec 
from his pen, and will give a better idea than any description, 
of the leading impression which his prayers produced on the 
hearers, namely, the infinite disparity which exists between 
God and the creature, at the same time that it brings to view 
numerous particulars in which this contrast mav be seen. 
*' God is in heaven, and we upon earth," was the great truth 
which stood forth with distinguished prominence in his invo- 
cations, confessions, pleadings, intercessions, and ascriptions. 
*' God is in this place," was a truth not less vividly impressed 
on the minds of his auditors when he poured out his soul in 
prayer. They saw, they felt, that he pleaded with a present 
God. His prayers conformed, with singular felicity, to his 
own definition of the exercise, which makes it ** a kind of de- 
vout poetry, the whole subject matter of which is furnished by 
the heart ; and the understanding is only allowed to shape 
and arrange the effusions of the heart in the manner best 
adapted to honor the Being to whom prayer is addressed, and 
to excite and direct the devotional feelings of his worshippers." 
But a thousand forms, of his prayers even, could never 
teach another to pray like him. He neither found for himself, 
nor could he mark out for others, a ''royal road" to the throne 
of grace ; and the *' gift of prayer," for which he was so emi- 
nent, was not attained without corresponding efforts on his 
part. It was by his daily retired practice, that he became so 
skilful and prevailing a pleader with his God. There can be 
no doubt on this point. His journal, through several succes- 
sive years, records repeated seasons of prayer for almost every 
day, together with the state of his affections, and the exercise 
or want of those graces which constitute the '' spirit of suppli- 
cation." It requires much of a devotional spirit even to read 
these perpetually recurring descriptions of his ' wrestling in 
prayer,' of his ' near access to the mercy-seat,' as well as of 
those difficulties which sometimes barred his approach ; for, to 
an undevout mind, they would present nothing but a weari- 
some, disgusting, endless monotony. When the inventive char- 
acter of his mind is considered, its exquisite delight in every 
thing that was original, these records exhibit the most infalli- 
ble evidence of his love for devotion. His continuing instant 
in prayer, be his circumstances what they might, is the most 
noticeable fact in his history, and points out the duty of all 
who would rival his eminency. There is no magic about it. 
" The arrow that would pierce the clouds must go from the 
nerved arm and the bent bow." But if prayer, to be success- 
ful, mast be ardent, so must it be not fitful, but habitual. 



EDWARD FAYSON. Igg 

If, however, he has not left a form, he has, happily, left 
some thoughts on public prayer, which will be of greater value, 
especially to ministers of the gospel ; and, as in his practice 
he illustrated his own instructions, a stranger to him may ob- 
tain from them a better knowledge of his manner, than from 
any description of it by another hand. 

** What are the principal excellences which should be 
cultivated, and the defects which should be avoided, 
by ministers of the gospel, in the performance of 
their public devotional exercises ? 

" The excellence of any performance consists in its being 
adapted to answer the end for which it is designed. So far 
as it is not adapted to answer that end, it must be considered 
defective. The design of public prayer, considered as a part 
of ministerial duty, is to honor the Being to whom it is ad- 
dressed, and to excite and direct the devotional feelings of his 
worshippers. These two objects, though distinct, are insepa- 
rably connected, and are to be attained by the same means ; 
for it will ever be found, that that mode of performing the duty 
of public prayer, which is best adapted to promote the honor 
of God, is best calculated to excite and direct the devotional 
feelings of the hearers. That our devotional performances 
may secure the attainment of these united objects, they must 
be the echo of a fervently pious heart, guided by a judicious 
and enlightened mind, to the voice of God, as uttered in his 
works and his word. An expression of the psalmist will illus- 
trate my meaning : — ' When thou saidst. Seek ye my face, my 
heart said unto thee. Thy face, Lord, will I seek.' In a simi- 
lar manner should our public addresses to God be the echo of 
his language to us. Our adorations and ascriptions of praise 
should thus respond to what he has revealed of his natural 
and moral perfections ; our confessions, to the charges which 
he has preferred against us, and to the punishments with which 
he threatens us ; our petitions and intercessions, to his com- 
mands, his promises, and the description he has given of our 
own wants, and those of our fellow-creatures ; and our thanks- 
givings, to the favors which he has bestowed on ourselves, our 
countrymen, and our race. When our devotional performan- 
ces thus echo back the voice of God, we cannot fail to promote 
]x)th his glory, and the edification of our people. We then 
follow a guide which cannot mislead us ; we express the very 
feelings which his language to us is designed and calculated 
to excite ; we set our seal to the truth of his declarations, say 



190 MEMOIR OF 

Amen to all that he has seen fit to reveal to us, and teach our 
hearers to do the same. Thus, while we avoid the too com- 
mon fault o^ preaching in prayer, our prayers will preach, and 
prove no less instructive than our sermons. We shall, at the 
same time, excite them to pray, and teach them how to pray. 
While we speak as the mouth of our people to God, we shall, 
in an indirect, but most impressive manner, be the mouth of 
God to our people, and set before them their duty, as it re- 
spects both faith and practice, in a way least calculated to 
offend, and in those solemn moments when the exhibition of 
truth is most likely to affect them. 

*' If the preceding remarks be just, it will be easy to infer 
from them what are the principal faults which should be avoid- 
ed by us in leading the devotions of our hearers. 

*' In the first place, I conceive that our devotional perform- 
ances are too often the language of the understanding, rather 
than of the heart. It has been observed that they should be 
the echo of a fervently-pious heart, guided by an enlightened 
understanding, to the voice of God. It is not, perhaps, un- 
candid to remark, that our expressions, in public prayer, are 
not always guided by an enlightened understanding ; but still 
less frequently, probably, are they the echo of a fervently- 
pious heart to the voice of God. They too often consist, al- 
most entirely, of passages of Scripture — not always judiciously 
chosen, or well arranged — and common-place phrases, which 
have been transmitted down, for ages, from one generation 
of ministers to another, selected and put together just as we 
would compose a sermon or essay, while the heart is allowed 
no share in the performance ; so that we may more properly 
be said to make a prayer, than to pray. The consequence is, 
that our devotional performances are too often cold and spirit- 
less : as the heart did not assist in composing, it disdains to 
aid in uttering them. They have almost as much of a form, 
as if we made use of a liturgy ; while the peculiar excellen- 
ces of a liturgy are wanting. Our hearers soon become fa- 
miliarized to our expressions, and not unfrequently learn to 
anticipate them ; and, though they may possibly be instructed, 
their devotional feelings are not excited. 

'^ That public prayer may produce its proper and designed 
effects upon their hearts, it should be, if I may so express it, 
a kind of devout poetry. As in poetry, so in prayer, the whole 
subject matter should be furnished by the heart ; and the un- 
derstanding should be allowed only to shape and arrange the 
effusions of the heart in the manner best adapted to answer 
the end des igned From the fulness of a heart overflowing 



EDWARD PAYSON. jgj 

with holy affections, as from a copious fountain, we should 
pour forth a torrent of pious, humble, and ardently-affection- 
ate feelings ; while our understandings only shape the chan- 
nel, and teach the gushing streams of devotion where to flow, 
and when to stop. In such a prayer, every pious heart among 
our hearers will join. They will hear a voice and utterance 
given to their own feelings. They will hear their own desires 
and emotions expressed more fully and perspicuously than they 
could express them themselves. Their hearts will spring for- 
ward to meet and unite with the heart of the speaker. The 
well of water, which our Saviour assures us is in all who drink 
of his Spirit, will rise, and burst its way through the rubbish 
of worldly cares and affections, which too often choke it ; and 
the stream of devotion, from many hearts, will unite, and flow 
on, in one broad tide, to the throne of Jehovah ; while, with 
one mind and one mouth, minister and people glorify God. 
Such was the prayer of Ezra, and such its effects : — ' And 
Ezra blessed the Lord, the great God. And all the people 
answered. Amen, amen, with lifting up of their hands ; and 
they bowed their heads, and worshipped the Lord with their 
faces toward the ground.' 

" Leading the devotion of our people in this manner will 
preserve us from another fault, less important, indeed, but not 
less common than that which has just been mentioned, and 
which, in part, is occasioned by it. It consists in uttering the 
different parts of prayer in the same tone. When our prayers 
are the language of the understanding only, this will always 
be done ; but not so when they flow from the heart. No per- 
son need be informed, that, in our intercourse with each other, 
a different modification of the voice is employed to express 
every different emotion of the heart. No one would expect 
to hear a condemned malefactor plead for his life, and return 
thanks for a pardon, in the same tone. And why is it not 
equally unnatural for sinful beings, condemned to eternal 
death, to plead for pardon, and return thanks for its bestowal^ 
in the same tone ? Yet how often is this done ! How often 
do we hear prayers flow on, from the commencement to the 
close, in the same uniform tone, with scarcely a perceptible 
inflection of the voice ! Yet no two things can differ more 
widely than the feelings which are expressed in different parts 
of the same prayer. Surely, then, a corresponding difference 
ought to be perceived in the modifications of the voice. In 
every other public expression of our feelings, such a difference 
is expected and re:|uired. The effect of the most eloquent 
composition would be greatly impaired, not to say wholly de- 



192 MEMOIR OF 

stroyed, by a delivery perfectly monotonous. The effects of 
the same cause upon devotional performances will be similar. 
Where no fervency of feeling is indicated, it will usually be 
found that none is excited ; and, since one principal design of 
public prayer is to excite the devotional feelings of the hearers, 
it is evident that a fault which so powerfully tends to defeat this 
design cannot be a fault of trifling consequence. I am, howev- 
er, aware, that in attempting to avoid this fault, the exercise of 
great care, and of much judgment and good taste, is requisite 
to preserve us from an affected or theatrical manner, which is a 
fault much more to be deprecated. Still, I conceive that when 
we feel as we ought, we shall find no difficulty or danger in this 
respect. Our hearts will then, without any effort on our part, 
insensibly teach us to express its emotions in a corresponding 
tone, and in the manner best adapted to excite similar feelings 
in the breasts of our hearers. But, if our devotional feelings 
are habitually languid, if our hearts do not teach our lips, it 
is, perhaps, advisable to aim at nothing beyond a monotonous 
solemnity, rather than, by affecting what we do not feel, to 
incur tlie certain displeasure of our Master, and the proba- 
ble contempt of our most judicious hearers. If we have no 
thoughts or feelings that glow, it is worse than useless to affect 
*^ words that burn." 

*' Another fault, which is not unfrequently found in our de- 
votional performances, I know not how to describe better than 
by saying that it consists in praying more like an awakened, 
but still impenitent, sinner, or more as such a character might 
be supposed to pray, than like a real Christian. Different 
causes, probably, tend to the adoption of this method. Some 
are apparently led to it by doubts respecting their own char- 
acter. They often suspect that they are not truly pious, and 
therefore fear to utter the language of a pious heart. Others 
seem to adopt it in consequence of false humility. They fear 
it would be thought indicative of pride, should they use ex- 
pressions which intimate that they think themselves to be the 
real disciples of Christ. A third class probably adopt this 
method with a view to offer prayers in which awakened, but 
still impenitent, sinners may join. But, whatever may be the 
motives which lead to the adoption of such a method, it is, I 
conceive, a fault which ought to be avoided. It is, indeed, a 
common, and, with some limitation, a just remark, that a min- 
ister is the mouth of his people to God. It is, however, of the 
pious part of his congregation, only, that he is the mouth. 
His prayer, then, should be the echo, not of an impenitent, 
but of a pious heart, to the voice of God. He should pray 



EDWARD PAYSON. I93 

unth those who are pious, and for those who are not so. In- 
stead of praying that himself, and those who unite with him, 
may exercise the feelings of a Christian, he should explicitly 
express those feelings. This is necessary for his own sake, 
if he be truly pious ; for, if he be so, he cannot sincerely utter 
the language of an impenitent heart. It is necessary for the 
sake of his pious hearers ; for, while he is attempting to form 
a prayer in which all may join, he will utter many expressions 
in which they cannot unite. It is also necessary even for the 
sake of his impenitent hearers ; for it is highly important for 
them to be convinced that they do not, and, with their present 
feelings, cannot pray ; and nothing will tend more effectually 
to convince them of this important truth, than listening to 
prayers in which truly pious feelings and holy exercises are 
distinctly expressed. For similar reasons, it is desirable that 
we should not always pray in a manner suited only to inexpe- 
rienced, weak, or declining Christians. Instead of descend- 
ing to their standard, we must endeavor to raise them to ours. 
If we wish our people to feel dissatisfied with their present at- 
tainments, and to become eminent Christians, we must accus- 
tom them to hear the devotional lano^uacre of eminent Chris- 
tians, by uttering such language in our prayers, if, indeed, we 
can do it without uttering what we do not feel. As an eagle 
tempts her young to soar higher than they would dare to do 
were they not encouraged by her example, so the minister of 
Christ should, occasionally at least, allure his people to the 
higher region of devotion, by taking a bolder flight than usual, 
and uttering the language of strong faith, ardent love, unsha- 
ken confidence, assured hope, and rapturous gratitude, admi- 
ration, and joy. Some of his hearers can, probably, at all 
times, follow him, and many others who at first tremble and 
hesitate ; many, who would scarcely dare adopt the same lan- 
guage in their closets, will gradually catch the sacred flame ; 
their hearts will burn within them. While their pastor leads 
the way, they will mount up, as on eagles' wings, toward 
heaven, and return from the house of prayer, not cold and 
languid, as they entered, but glowing with the fires of devo- 
tion. In this, as w^ell as in other respects, it will, in some 
measure, be, ' like people, like priest.' If we thus strike the 
golden harp of devotion, we shall soon find our pious hearers 
able to accompany us through its whole compass of sound, 
fi-om the low notes of humble, penitential sorrow, up to the 
high, heart-thrilling tones of rapturous joy, admiration, love, 
and praise, which are in union with the harps of the redeemed 
before the throne 
17 



194 MEMOIR OF 

-' Another fault, sometimes found in devotional performances 
which are otherwise unexceptionable, is the want of sufficient 
particularity. Indeed, most of our public prayers are too gen- 
eral. They bring so much into view, that nothing is seen dis- 
tinctly. It is well known, that, if we except sublime and ter- 
rible objects, nothing affects the mind, unless it be clearly and 
distinctly perceived. If the most admired descriptive poems, 
and those which produce the greatest effect upon our feelings, 
be carefully examined, it will be found that they derive their 
power to affect us almost entirely from a minute and striking 
description of a few judiciously-selected particulars. It is the 
same with our devotional performances. We may praise God, 
or confess sin, or pray for mercy, or return thanks for divine 
favor, in a general way, without being ourselves affected, and 
without exciting the affections of our hearers. But when we 
descend to particulars, the effect is different. The mind re 
ceives, drop afler drop, till it is full. We should, therefore, 
aim at as great a degree of particularity, as the time allotted 
us, and the variety of topics on which we must touch, will 
allow. Especially is it important, that we enter deeply and 
particularly into every part of Christian experience, and lay 
open all the minute ramifications, and almost imperceptible 
workings of the pious heart, in its various situations, and thus 
show our hearers to themselves in every point of view. In a 
word, our public prayers should resemble, as nearly as propriety 
will allow, the breathings of an humble, judicious, and fervently- 
pious Christian, in his private devotions. The prayer of the 
pulpit differs too much — it should differ as little as possible — 
from the prayer of the closet. A neglect, in this particular, 
often renders our performances uninteresting and unacceptable 
to those whom we should most desire to gratify. 

*' Such, I conceive, are the principal defects, which are most 
frequently found in our devotional performances. It is obvious, 
that they are all occasioned, either wholly or in part, by a lan- 
guid state of devotional feeling ; and that the only effectual 
remedy is to be sought in the diligent cultivation of a frame of 
temper habitually devout. That a minister may lead the devo- 
tions of his people in the most suitable and edifying manner, it 
seems indispensable that he should possess a mind deeply im- 
bued with divine truth ; a mind, into the very frame and tex- 
ture of which the doctrines of revelation are wrought ; and a 
heart thoroughly broken and humbled for sin, and tremblingly 
alive to the voice of God, and ever glowing with celestial fire. 
He, who, with such a mind and such a heart, lives much in 
his closet, praying, as the apostle expresses it, in the Holy 



EDWARD PAYSON. I95 

Ghost, and habitually imploring his assistance to help his in- 
firmities, will always lead the devotions of his people in a judi- 
cious, edifying, and acceptable manner ; nor will he need the 
aid of a precomposed form. In his prayers, as well as in his ser- 
mons, he will constantly bring out of his treasury things new 
and old. But if our hearts will not pray, or teach us in what 
manner to cry to our heavenly Father and Redeemer, our un- 
derstandings must; and we must either compose or borrow 
forms for that purpose. How far, in this case, we can be con- 
sidered as called to the work of the ministry, or fitted for it, is 
not for me to say ; but, surely, he who can contemplate the 
wonders of creation, and yet find nothing to say to his Maker ; 
still more, he who can meditate on the mysteries of redeeming 
love, and behold the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, 
without feeling praises ready to burst spontaneously from his 
lips, has some reason to fear that he possesses little of the spirit 
of heaven, and that he has never learned that new song, which 
none can learn but those who are redeemed fi'om the earth ; for, 
with reference to this subject, it may be emphatically said, in 
the words of inspiration, * the heart of the wise teacheth his 
mouth, and addeth learning to his lips.' " 

Such public prayers as he offered were singularly adapted 
to affect the minds of an assembly, and prepare them for the 
reception of religious truths, besides being the appointed means 
of obtaining the influences of the Holy Spirit, ** to render the 
word effectual to salvation." To his ardent and persevering 
prayers must, no doubt, be ascribed, in a great measure, his 
distinguished and almost uninterrupted success ; and, next to 
these, the undoubted sincerity of his belief in the truths which 
he inculcated. His language, his conversation, and whole de- 
portment, were such as brought home and fastened on the 
minds of his hearers the conviction that he believed, and tliere- 
fore spoke. So important did he regard such a conviction in 
the attendants on the ministry, that he made it the topic of 
one of his addresses to his clerical brethren ; and most of his 
remarks on this subject will here be introduced, as disclosing 
one of those great principles which formed the basis of his 
ministerial character. 



**The importance of convincing our hearers that we 
believe what we preach, and the means necessary 
to produce such a conviction in their minds. 

" The importance of convincing our hearers that we firmly 



196 MEMOIR OF 

believe the truths which we inculcate, and that by this belief 
we are habitually actuated in our conduct, as men and as 
ministers, will appear sufficiently evident from the fact, that, 
on their feeling such a conviction, the success of our labors 
among them very much depends. That this is a fact, will not, 
it is presumed, be denied. When expressing a belief that it 
is so, however, I am far from intending to assert, that a con- 
viction of a minister's sincerity in the minds of his hearers is 
inseparably connected with ministerial success. I would not, 
even for a moment, forget that, after every human exertion 
possible has been made, the smallest success is owing entirely 
to the blessing of God ; nor that he bestows this blessing as he 
pleases, in a sovereign way. I am also fully aware of the fact, 
that many faithful ministers of Christ, who have exhibited the 
strongest evidence, and produced in the minds of their hearers 
the fullest conviction of their sincerity, have been favored with 
this blessing but in a very small degree ; while not a few of 
questionable sincerity, to say the least, have apparently been 
made instrumental of extensive good. 

*^ Still, though I would by no means estimate a minister's 
fidelity by his apparent success, I must consider it as a truth, 
to which all will readily assent, that, generally speaking, no 
minister can reasonably expect his labors to be successful, 
whose life does not exhibit evidence of his sincerity ; whose 
hearers are not convinced that he believes the message which 
he delivers. It is too evident to require proof, that, without 
such a conviction, our hearers will not even respect us as men. 
Insincerity is a vice, which, however men may tolerate it in 
themselves, they universally agree to despise and condemn in 
others ; and never do they reprobate it more severely, or more 
justly, than when it is found in those who minister at the altar 
of God. If, then, our hearers suspect that we are guilty of it ; 
if they suppose that we attend to our profession merely as a 
profession, and inculcate doctrines on them which we do not 
ourselves believe, they will assuredly consider us as mercenary 
hypocrites, who sacrilegiously profane things most sacred, sac- 
rifice to vanity, or avarice, on the altar of God, employ the 
cross of Christ as a ladder for ambition, and consequently de- 
serve to be regarded only with abhorrence and contempt. That 
the existence of such suspicions in their minds must most 
powerfully tend to prevent the success of our labors, it is need- 
less to remark. 

" And as, while our hearers entertain such suspicions, they 
will despise us as men, much more will they disregard us in 
our official character, as the ambassadors of Christ. ** Physi- 



EDWARD PAYSON. I97 

cian, heal thyself/' will be their secret, if not open reply to all 
our admonitions, instructions, and reproofs. With what appa- 
rent attention soever they may be induced by worldly motives 
to treat our ministrations, many of them will be- gradually led 
to consider the services of the sanctuary as a kind of solemn 
farce, designed to impose on the weak and ignorant, in which 
we are called by our profession to act the principal part ; a part 
which requires us to utter things which, as we appear not to 
believe them ourselves, they will feel themselves under no obli- 
gations to believe or obey. 

"The well known and often quoted maxim of the poet. 

Si vis me flere, dolendum est 



Primum ipsi tibi 



is, with a slight variation, peculiarly applicable to the ministers 
of Christ. If they wish their hearers to believe and be affect- 
ed by the truth which they deliver, they must first appear, at 
least, to believe and be affected by it themselves. In vain will 
they declare, from the pulpit, that God is in this place, and in- 
culcate the necessity of worshipping him with reverence and 
godly fear, w^hile their demeanor affords reason to suspect, that 
they are themselves totally unconscious of his presence. In 
vain will they teach that men are entirely guilty and depraved, 
while they appear either not to know, or to habitually forget, 
that they are by nature children of wrath, even as others. In 
vain will they preach Christ crucified, while their hearers can- 
not take knowledge of them that they have been with Jesus, 
and they appear to know him only by name. In vain will they, 
like Noah, that preacher of righteousness, warn mankind of an 
approaching flood, and urge them to fly from the wrath to come, 
while their people imagine that they are not, like Noah, pre- 
paring an ark for their own salvation. In vain will they forbid 
their hearers to lay up treasure on earth, while their own con- 
duct excites a suspicion that they mind earthly things ; and in 
vain will they inculcate heavenly-mindedness, or expatiate on 
the joys above, the worth of the soul, and the solemn realities 
of the eternal world, while their lives produce no conviction in 
the minds of their people, that they are actuated by that faith 
which is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence 
,of things not seen. ' In vain,' says a celebrated French prel- 
ate, * do we preach to our hearers. Our lives, of which they 
are witnesses, are, with the generality of men, the gospel ; it is 
not what we declare in the house of God ; it is what they see 
us practise in our general demeanor. They look upon the 
public ministry as a stage designed for the display of exalted 
17* 



X98 MEMOIR OF 

principles, beyond the reach of human weakness ; but they 
consider our life as the reality by which they are to be directed/ 

" But it is saying too little, to assert, that, while suspicions 
are generally entertained of a minister's sincerity, no beneficial 
effects can reasonably be expected to result fi-om his labors. 
In almost every instance, they will probably be found to pro- 
duce effects positively mischievous. His unbelief, whether 
real or supposed, will ever be urged by his hearers in vindica- 
tion of their own. If he, they will say, whose profession leads 
him to study the Scriptures, and who is, consequently, well ac- 
quainted with all the evidence in their favor, does not sincerely 
believe their contents, why should we ? In addition to this, the 
contempt with which he will be regarded, as a man and as a 
minister, will insensibly extend, in a greater or less degree, to 
the truths which he preaches, and to the religion whose minis- 
ter he professedly is. Many of his hearers will be gradually 
led to a conclusion, to which men are of themselves sufficiently 
prone, that all other ministers, in past and present ages, re- 
semble their own, and that Christianity is a system of priest- 
craft and delusion, invented by designing men for their own 
benefit, and intended to keep the ignorant, weak, and credu- 
lous in awe. 

" Or, should they not, as will doubtless in many instances be 
the case, think thus of Christianity itself, they will at least form 
such an opinion of the order and denomination to which we 
belong, and be, consequently, led to seek among other sects, 
and even wild enthusiasts, for that religious zeal and sincerity 
which they know ought to be found in all the ministers of 
Christ, but which they imagine is not to be found in us. And 
while many of our hearers will thus be led into error or specu- 
lative infidelity, a large proportion of those who remain will 
infallibly become practical infidels, or settle down contented 
with a meager form of godliness, in perfect ignorance of its 
transforming, life-giving power. It is in vain to evade the 
force of these obvious truths, by urging the acknowledged max- 
im, that the Bible is the only rule of faith and practice ; that to 
this alone men ought to look, and that they are entirely inex- 
cusable in thus confounding religion with the conduct of its 
ministers, and, for the faults of one, condemning the other. We 
readily allow that they are so. But still, as has been oflen 
remarked, we must take men as they are, not as they ought to 
be ; and to the plea just mentioned, it is a sufficient reply, that 
the principle of association in the human mind powerfully tends 
to produce the effects here alluded to ; and that such, in part, 
ever have been the effects of apparent insincerity in the minis- 



EDWARD PAYSON. I99 

ters of Christ. We are far, however, from asserting or suppos- 
ing, that such effects may not arise from other causes ; or that 
the prevalence of vice and error among a people necessarily 
proves that their minister is unfaithful or insincere. We know 
that prejudice often renders men blind to the plainest and most 
unequivocal proofs of sincerity. 

" We know that men are naturally opposed to divine truth, 
and prone to hate those who press it upon them with plainness 
and fidelity. We are also aware, that many of our hearers 
scan our conduct with a critical and malignant eye, and are 
eager to discover something in us, which may furnish an ex- 
cuse for their own errors, and justify them in asserting that 
we do not believe what we preach. But it cannot escape your 
notice, my fathers and brethren, that these dispositions, while 
they render it in some cases exceedingly difficult to convince 
men of our sincerity, aiford also most powerful reasons why 
we should make the attempt. If they are thus prone to suspect 
the reality of our belief, we must be careful to afford them no 
real or apparent cause for suspicion. If they scan our conduct 
with a critical and malignant eye, we must give double dili- 
gence to render it irreproachable. And if they naturally hate 
those truths which duty reqiftes us to preach, it becomes us 
to see that their hatred derives no excuse or palliation from our 
temper or practice. They must, if possible, be constrained to 
feel a conviction, that, in declaring these offensive truths, we 
are actuated, not by mercenary views, nor by bigotry, morose- 
ness, or severity of temper, but by an imperious sense of 
duty, and by a tender, deep, and unfeigned concern for the 
glory of God, and the salvation of their souls ; that we are not 
marking out one path for them, and another for ourselves, but 
that we watch for their souls as those who know that they 
must give an account ; and that we habitually and uniformly 
seek, not their wealth, their applause, their friendship, but 
their salvation. That it is possible, in most instances, to pro- 
duce and maintain this conviction in the minds of men, is evi- 
dent from facts. That the first preachers of the gospel suc- 
ceeded in doing it, cannot be denied. While they were ac- 
cused of almost every other crime, they seem never to have 
been even suspected of insincerity. They could say publicly, 
without fear of contradiction, — for they knew that their whole 
conduct, and even the consciences of their enemies, bore testi- 
mony to the truth of their assertions, — *^ We believe, and there- 
fore speak." ^* Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we persuade 
men." '^ If we be beside ourselves, it is to God ; and if we be so- 
ber, k is for your cause ; for we seek not yours, but you ; and 



200 MEMOIR OF 

we will very gladly spend and be spent for you, though, the 
more abundantly we love you, the less we be loved. As of 
sincerity, as of God, in the sight of God, speak we in Christ. 
For we are manifest unto God, and we trust also, are manifest 
in your consciences.'' 

" But the situation of things, at the present day, is some- 
what different. While we are seldom charged with other 
faults, we are not unfrequently suspected, and even accused, 
of insincerity ; of not really believing what we preach. It is a 
melancholy fact, that multitudes among us appear to consider 
the ministry merely as a profession, and to suppose that we 
preach the gospel only because it is, in the view of men, a 
professional duty. They seem not to imagine that we expect, 
or even wish, that they should believe the message which we 
bring. To account for this melancholy fact, is no part of my 
present design. Whether it is owing to the bold assertions of 
our enemies, to the prevalence of sectarism and infidelity, or 
to something in our own conduct, is not for me to determine ; 
but certain it is, that ministers of our denomination are, by 
very many, regarded as mercenary hirelings, who " prophesy 
for reward, and divine for mon^." Surely, then, it becomes 
us, my fathers and brethren, to ao every thing in our power to 
remove these injurious impressions, and to convince both our 
hearers and others, that, like the apostles, we believe, and 
therefore speak. 

" The means necessary for the production of this effect will 
next demand our attention. 

'^ What means are necessary for this purpose we may learn 
in two different ways. 

" We may learn them from a careful attention to the con- 
duct of the first preachers of Christianity. That they suc- 
ceeded in convincing men of their sincerity, we have already 
seen. And since, in similar circumstances, the same causes 
ever produce similar effects, we may reasonably hope, by imi- 
tating their example, to produce a similar conviction in the 
minds of our hearers. 

" The means necessary for this purpose may be inferred, 
also, from a consideration of the nature and effects of faith, as 
described by the inspired writers. They inform us, that it is 
" the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things 
not seen." It enables those who possess it " to endure, as see- 
ing him who is invisible." It gives unseen things a sub- 
stance, a reality, an existence in the mind. It does, as it 
were, clothe them with a body, and thus leads those who pos- 
sess it to feel and act, in some measure, as they would do, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 201 

were the objects of faith made visible ; were God and Christ, 
and heaven and hell, rendered objects of sense. If, then, we 
would convince our hearers that we possess this faith, we 
must conduct in a similar manner. In other words, we must 
imitate the temper and conduct of the apostles ; for it will ap- 
pear, on a moment's reflection, that these different methods of 
ascertaining the means necessary to convince men of our sin- 
cerity lead to precisely the same result. 

" A general idea of the manner in which a minister would 
conduct, to whom the great objects of faith were rendered vis- 
ible, may easily be formed. He would feel, that God is all in 
all, that his favor is the one thing needful, that his displeas- 
ure is the only thing dreadful, and that, to a minister, noth- 
ing, comparatively speaking, is worth knowing or making 
known, but Jesus Christ and him crucified. He would feel, 
that the temporal happiness of kingdoms, and even of worlds, 
is nothing, in comparison with the salvation of a single soul. 
With such feelings his conduct would correspond. While he 
contemplated the broad road, with the multitudes who throng 
it, and the destruction in which it ends, his compassion, grief, 
and zeal, would be most powerfully excited, and lead him to 
make every possible exertion to snatch his hearers as brands 
from the burning. ' Knowing the terrors of the Lord, he 
would persuade men.' In the performance of this duty, he 
would be instant in season, and out of season, and preach the 
word, not only publicly in the house of God, but privately and 
from house to house. In a word, he would give himself wholly 
to his work ; consecrate to it all the powers of his body and mind, 
and pursue the grand object of saving himself, and them that 
heard him, with unabated ardor and activity, to the close of life. 

" The influence of the great objects which he beholds, 
would appear also in his manner of performing ministerial du- 
ties. In his public approaches to the throne of grace, he 
would exhibit a personification of reverence and godly fear, 
and evince that he was addressing a present being ; that he 
felt himself immediately under the eye of a holy, heart-search- 
ing God. While he would make supplication for himself and 
his people, like one who was pleading for life, at the bar of his 
judge, every word and accent would show that he was deeply 
convinced of his guilt and sinfulness ; that he felt the need of a 
Mediator ; that he felt, also, that holy, humble confidence, 
which the sight of such a Mediator as Christ is calculated to 
inspire. ' 

" In delivering his message as an ambassador of Christ, he 
would show that he felt deeply penetrated with a conviction of 



^i02 MEMOIR OF 

its triUh and infinite importance. He would speak like one 
whose whole soul was filled with his subject. He would 
speak of Christ and his salvation as a grateful, admiring peo- 
ple would speak of a great and generous deliverer, who had 
devoted his life for the welfare of his country. He would de- 
scribe religion as a traveller describes a country through 
which he has leisurely passed, or as an aged man describes the 
scenes of his former life. He would portray the Christian 
warfare as a veteran portrays a battle, in which he has just 
been contending for liberty and life. He would speak of eter- 
nity as one whose eye had been wearied in attempting to pen- 
etrate its unfathomable recesses, and describe its awful reali- 
ties like a man who stood on the verge of time, and had lifted 
the veil w^hich conceals them from the view of mortals. 
* Thoughts that glow and words that burn' would compose 
his public addresses ; and while a sense of the dignity of his 
official character, and the infinite importance of his subject, 
would lead him to speak, as one having authority, with inde- 
scribable solemnity, weight, and energy; a full recollection, 
that he was by nature a child of wrath, and that he was ad- 
dressing fellovr men, fellow sinners, mingled with compassion 
for their wretched state, and an ardent desire for their salva- 
tion, would spread an air of tenderness over his discourses, 
and invest him with that affectionate, melting, persuasive cor- 
rectness of manner, which is best calculated to affect and pen- 
etrate the heart. To say all in a word, he would speak like 
an ambassador of him who spake as never man spake, and 
who could say. We speak what we do know, and testify what 
we have seen. 

*^ Nor would the great objects which he beheld lose their 
influence when he descended from the sacred desk. Wher- 
ever he went, they would still surround him, and their over- 
whelming importance would annihilate in his mind the impor- 
tance of all other objects. Wherever he went, he would see 
before him immortal beings, who were either heirs of glory or 
children of perdition ; pilgrims on their way to heaven, or 
travellers to hell. To awaken, convince, and convert the one, 
and to animate, instruct, and comfort the other, would be the 
great object of his private conversation, as well as of his pub- 
lic addresses ; and the prosecution of this object would leave 
him neither leisure nor inclination to attend to secular con- 
cerns, any further than absolute necessity required. Feeling 
that he watched for souls as one who must give an account, 
and knowing the secret errors, mistakes, and delusions, into 
which men are prone to fall, he would be anxious to acquire 



EDWARD PAYSON. 203 

as perfect a knowledge as possible of the religious character, 
views, and feelings, of every individual in his flock, and would 
improve every favorable opportunity for this purpose. Nor, 
while employed in cultivating the vineyard of others, would he 
forget or neglect his own ; but would labor to save himself, as 
well as to secure the salvation of them that heard him. He 
would be emphatically a man of prayer, and, like his divine 
Master, would often retire and ascend the mount to converse 
with God, and draw from the Fountain of life fresh supplies. 

" It is needless to add, that he would not be conformed to 
the world, nor seek its honors, wealth, or applause. With a 
fixed and steadfast eye, he would contemplate things unseen 
and eternal, and count neither the joys nor the sufferings of 
the present life worthy to be compared with the glory that 
shall be revealed. Thus his life, as well as his sermons, would 
preach ; his official character would never be laid aside or for- 
gotten ; his sincerity would be manifest to the consciences of 
his hearers, and all would exclaim, with one voice, " This man 
believes, and therefore speaks." 

*' Such, my fathers and brethren, would probably be a min- 
ister who saw what we all profess to believe. Such were the 
first preachers of the gospel ; and such, in some degree at 
least, must we be, if we would convince men of our sincerity. 
We must imitate the example of the apostles, and exhibit the 
influence of that faith, which the Scriptures describe, in the 
discharge of our public official duties. In the performance of 
these duties, we must not confine ourselves within those lim- 
its which sloth or negligence first introduced, and which cus- 
tom has sanctioned. We must not restrict our labors to the 
stated and ordinary services of the sanctuary. These our 
hearers expect. For these they imagine that we are paid. 
Their regular performance is therefore considered, and justly 
so, as affording no proof of our sincerity. To evince the real- 
ity of our belief, something more is necessary. We cannot 
reasonably expect our hearers to believe that we sincerely and 
earnestly desire their salvation, while we do nothing more to 
promote it than custom or a regard to our reputation re- 
quires ; nor is it easy to conceive how they can suppose, that 
we really believe them to be constantly exposed to endless, 
remediless ruin, while we warn them of their danger on the 
Sabbath only, and appear to forget their perilous situation 
during the remainder of the week. If we wish them to feel 
convinced that such is their situation, and that we really be- 
lieve it to be so, we must show them that we fix no limits to 
our labors, but those which necessity prescribes. 



204 MEMOIR OF 

** Of little, if any, less importance is it, that we exhibit the 
influence and effects of faith in our manner of performing 
ministerial duties. However frequently or plainly we may 
warn our hearers, if we address them only in a cold, unfeel- 
ing manner, we can scarcely expect them to feel convinced 
of our sincerity. Such, evidently, was not the manner in 
which the first preachers of Christianity inculcated its doc- 
trines. St. Paul could say, when bidding farewell to his Ephe- 
sian hearers, " I ceased not to warn every one of you, night 
and day, with tears." Considering the sanguine temperament 
of the apostle, and the different constitutions and dispositions 
of men, it cannot, perhaps, be reasonably demanded or expect- 
ed, that every minister should be able to say this ; though, if 
any thing can justly call for tears, it must be the situation of 
our impenitent hearers ; and to weep in contemplation of the 
miseries which they are bringing upon themselves, is highly be- 
coming in the ministers of him who w^ept over rebellious Je- 
rusalem. To say the least, some degree of apparent earnest- 
ness, zeal, and fervor, seems requisite to stamp our public dis- 
courses with an air of sincerity ; and when the natural dispo- 
sition renders it impossible to manifest much warmth of feel- 
ing, as in many cases it undoubtedly does, it is peculiarly ne- 
cessary that its absence should be supplied by increased solem- 
nity and energy in the dispensation of truth. Mankind are so 
constituted, that it is exceedingly difficult, not to say impossi- 
ble, for them to believe that a speaker is in earnest, who does 
not appear to be interested in his subject, or who delivers inter- 
esting and important truths in a manner which betrays a total 
want of feeling ; and never are they less ready to excuse such 
a manner — never, indeed, is it less excusable — than when 
found in those who preach the glorious gospel of the blessed 
God, and, in his name, warn sinners to fly from the wrath to 
come. It is, doubtless, to their adoption of a more warm and 
impassioned mode of address, that the influence of sectarian 
preachers over the minds of common hearers is to be princi- 
pally ascribed. It is this, which gives their loose and desulto- 
ry, but vehement harangues, an air of sincerity, an appear- 
ance of flowing warm from the heart, which our more correct 
and methodical discourses do not always possess, but which is 
almost indispensably necessary to the production of a general 
belief that we are sincere. In making these observations, I 
would not, however, be understood to intimate, that an appa- 
rent want of fervency, zeal, and animation, affords, in all cases, 
just cause for questioning a minister's sincerity ; or that the 
degree of real feeling is always in proportion to the outward 



EDWARD PAYSON. 205 

expressions of it. We readily allow, that many may firmly be- 
lieve the truths they deliver, and feel deeply interested in their 
success, and yet, in consequence of a constitutional coolness 
and evenness of temper, display less warmth and animation 
than others who are far below them in real faith and religious 
sensibility. Still, we cannot believe that it is impossible for 
any one, whose heart glows with the sacred fire of love and 
zeal, to preach in such a manner, as to leave in the minds of 
his hearers no doubt of his sincerity, or of his earnest desire to 
effect their salvation. 

" If this be important, it is, if possible, still more so, that we 
exhibit the influence and effects of faith in our more private 
intercourse with society. ' It is here,' says a celebrated Eng- 
lish prelate, ^ that, I conceive, we of the clergy are apt to fail. 
We do not always, in the common intercourse of life, appear 
sufficiently penetrated with the importance of our function, or 
sufficiently assiduous in promoting the ends of our mission.' 
* I could name instances,' says another divine, ^ where it has 
appeared to me, that the probable good effects of a very faith- 
ful testimony in the pulpit, have, humanly speaking, been 
wholly defeated by too successful endeavors to be agreeable out 
of it.' These remarks, though made with reference to the 
English clergy, are but in too many instances applicable to the 
divines of our own country ; and they suggest, at once, much 
important instruction and reproof It is doubtless right to 
associate with all classes among our hearers, and even with 
publicans and sinners; but it must be only, or principally, with 
a design to instruct and reform them. It is also not only right, 
but a duty, to become all things to all men, so far as we law- 
fully can ; but our only object in doing it must be by all means 
to save some ; and if the object be not kept steadily in view, 
if religious conversation be not introduced on all proper occa- 
sions, on ajl occasions which Christ and his apostles would have 
thought proper for this purpose, our social intercourse with our 
hearers will certainly become a snare to us, and a stumbling 
block to them; and, perhaps, "more than counteract the good 
effects of all our public addresses. If we lay aside our official 
character, and feel as if we had discharged all our official du- 
ties, when we descend from the sacred desk ; if, while associat- 
ing v/ith our impenitent hearers, we appear to forget their char- 
acter,, and the awfully dangerous situation in which they stand, 
they will certainly forget it too, and probably doubt whether we 
really believe it ourselves. Should a physician assure a num- 
ber of his patients, that their symptoms were highly alarming^ 
and their diseases probably mortal, and then sit down and con- 
18 



206 MEMOIR OF 

verse on trifling subjects, with an air of quiet indifference or 
levity, what would be their inference from his conduct ? Would 
they not unavoidably conclude, either that he did not really 
consider their situation as dangerous, or that he was grossly 
deficient in sensibility, and in a proper regard to their feelings ? 
So if our impenitent hearers see us, after solemnly assuring 
them from the pulpit, that they are children of disobedience, 
children of wrath, and momentarily exposed to the most awful 
punishment, mingling in their society with an apparent uncon- 
sciousness of their perilous situation; conversing with earnest- 
ness on secular affairs ; and seldom or never introducing topics 
strictly religious, or embracing private opportunities to warn 
them of their danger, — what must they suppose? If they re- 
flect at all, must they not unavoidably conclude, either that we 
do not believe their situation to be such as we have represented 
it, or that we are totally devoid, not only of benevolence, com- 
passion, and religious sensibility, but even of the common 
feelings of humanity ? It is needless to remark, that either 
conclusion would be far from producing favorable ideas of our 
sincerity, or ministerial faithfulness. If, then, we wish that 
such ideas should be entertained by our people, we must con- 
vince them by our conduct, that we never forget our character, 
our duty, or their situation. 

*^ The conviction of our cordial belief of the truths we deliv- 
er, which such a discharge of the ministerial duty will produce 
in the minds of our hearers, must be seated and maintained 
by a corresponding life. Unaccompanied with this, all other 
means will be in vain. * Example,' says a French prelate, * is 
the groundwork of a minister's character.' * In vain,' he 
adds, * do we preach to our hearers. Our life, of which they 
are witnesses, is, with the generality of men, the gospel. It is 
not what we declare in the house of God, it is what they see 
us practise in our general demeanor.' If, then, we would 
maintain a conviction among our hearers, that we are sincere, 
our conduct, as well as our sermons, must preach ; and if the 
former contradicts, or does not c5incide with the latter, no good 
effects can be reasonably expected to follow. We must, there- 
fore, be able, though we may not think proper, to say, with the 
apostle, " Be ye followers of me, even as I am of Christ. The 
things which ye have received, and learned, and heard, and 
seen in me, do, and the God of peace shall be with you." If, 
says archbishop Usher to his clergy, ' if practical Christian 
piety, benevolence, and self government, with constant zeal to 
promote them all upon earth, are not the first and chief quali- 
ties, which your parishioners and acquaintance will ascribe to 



EDWARD PAYSON. 207 

you ; if they will speak of you as noted on other accounts, but 
pass over these articles in silence, and, when asked about them, 
be at a loss what to say, excepting, possibly, that they know 
no harm of you, all is not right ; nor can such a clergy answer 
the design of its institution any where, nor even maintain its 
ground in a country of freedom and learning/ God grant that 
the clergy of this country may never, by evincing the want of 
these qualities, frustrate the all-important end of their ministry, 
nor render it impossible for them to maintain their ground 
against the assaults of error, vice, and infidelity." 

Had this description of the " good minister of Jesus Christ" 
been drawn by another hand, the familiar acquaintances of Dr. 
Payson might well have supposed that himself sat for the pic- 
ture ; so accurately did the grand features of his ministerial 
character correspond with this delineation. Here is, unques- 
tionably, the standard of excellence which he had prescribed 
to himself, and at which his aims were continually directed. 
And, whatever might have been the degree of those deficien- 
cies, which he so frequently and so pathetically laments, as 
to the spirit and temper with which he discharged his official 
duties, it is doubted whether the most scrutinizing observer 
was ever able to detect in his practice any material variation 
from this standard. Often did his clear exhibitions of truth, 
and his full and plain exposures of the obliquities of men, prove 
the occasion of bitter and outrageous feelings in the bosoms of 
many ; but rarely, indeed, could the individual be found, who 
ventured to express a doubt of his honesty and sincerity. He 
was always in earnest, and " commended himself to every 
man's conscience in the sight of God." 



20S MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The pastor hi action — Methods of exciting, sustaining and 
extending a due interest in religious concerns — Preaching, 
administration of ordinances, church fast, conference, in^ 
quiry meetings. 

Although most of the preceding chapter, if changed from 
the didactic form to that of narration, would, for the extent to 
which it reaches, present a true history of its author, yet there 
are other details from his own pen, interspersed throughout his 
familiar correspondence, which will be found scarcely less in- 
structive, and, at the same time, exhibit a fuller developement 
of the nature, extent, and variety of his pastoral labors. We 
shall commence our extracts with a letter written in 1812, to a 
young clergyman, then recently settled in the ministry, who 
had sought his instruction and advice on the subject of pastoral 
duties. It has already been stated, that Mr. Payson was now 
the sole pastor of the church ; and it was in this year that thir- 
ty-one of its members were separated from it, and, by a distinct 
organization, constituted the '' Chapel Congregational Church in 
Portland," over which Mr. Kellogg was placed as pastor. The 
vacancy hereby created was more than filled — forty-eight per- 
sons being added to the church within the same year. It was 
distinguished beyond former years for " the fruits of the Spirit." 

" Dear Brother, 

*^ Your letter requesting * information and advice,* has just 
reached me. I rejoice in the circumstances that led to such a 
request. I rejoice still more that you feel *' ignorant, and in- 
experienced, and inadequate to the charge which has devolved 
upon you." We must feel so, or we shall meet with little 
success. 

" I can, however, assure you, for your encouragement, that 
you cannot possibly be more ignorant and inexperienced than 
I was at the time of my settlement. I knew just nothing at 
all of my business ; but I knew a little, O how little ! of my 
own ignorance. This led me to pray almost incessantly ; and, 
somehow or other, I have, as I trust, been preserved from fatal 
mistakes, tsid not suffer'^l to ruin either myself or my people, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 209 

as I sometimes feared that I should. He who has thus guided 
me, and thousands of others equally foolish, will, I trust, guide 
you. — The best advice I can give you, is, to look to Him. This 
I doubt not you do ; but you cannot do it too much. If we 
would do much for God, we must ask much of God; we must 
be men of prayer ; we must, almost literally, pray without ceas- 
ing. You have doubtless met with Luther's remark — " Three 
things make a divine — sprayer, meditation, and temptation." 
My dear brother, I cannot insist on this too much. Prayer is 
the first thing, the second thing, and the third thing necessary 
for a minister, especially in seasons of revival. The longer 
you live in the ministry, the more deeply, I am persuaded, you 
will be convinced of this. Pray then, my dear brother, pray, 
pray, pray. Read the account of Solomon's choice, 1 Kings, 
iii. 5 — 15. If, like him, you choose wisdom, and pray for it, 
it will be yours. 

'' The next thing in importance is, as I conceive, that your 
church should be excited to pray for the influences of the Di- 
vine Spirit ; and that they should frequently meet for this pur- 
pose. For, though private prayer may be as effectual, it does 
not so directly tend to honor God, as that which is more pub- 
lic. God converts sinners for his own glory, and he will have 
all the glory of their conversion. Nothing tends more directly 
to give him the glory, than social prayer. In that duty we ex- 
plicitly acknowledge, not only to him, but to our fellow-crea- 
tures, that nothing but the influences of his Spirit can render 
any means effectual, and that we are entirely dependent for 
those influences on his sovereign will. In a word, we ac- 
knowledge that, in the conversion of sinners, he is all, and we 
are nothinof. 

^' With respect to those who are awakened, I conceive it is 
our duty to act as fellow-workers with the Divine Spirit ; to 
insist principally on those truths of which he first convinces 
them, and to endeavor, both by our preaching and conversation, 
to bring them to the same point to which he aims to bring them. 
This point is complete self-despair, and hope in Christ. The 
former is a pre-requisite to the latter. I therefore aim, in the 
first place, to increase their convictions of sins, especially of 
the great, damning sin of unbelief If they ask. What shall we 
do ? I never dare give them any other answer than that given 
by Christ and his apostles : " Repent, and believe the gospel." 
I insist much on the character of God ; the strictness, extent 
and spirituality of his law ; the various artifices, deceptions, ^ 
and excuses of the heart ; the false hopes of sinners and hypo- 
crites ; the n iture of true and false conversion ; and the great 
18* 



210 MEMOIR OF 

danger of being deceived. I also frequently warn them of the 
dreadful consequences of delaying repentance, grieving the 
Spirit, losing their convictions, or resting on false hopes, like 
the stony ground hearers. I labor especially to convince them 
that all the difficulties which oppose their salvation lie in their 
own hearts — that Christ is willing to save them — but they are 
unwilling to be saved in his way, and are, therefore, without 
excuse. This is a very important point. I have seen none 
go back who appeared to be truly convinced of this. In ad- 
dition to this, I say much of the glory, beauty, and sufficiency 
of Christ, and of the perfect freeness of the blessings which 
he oifers, and endeavor to show them the horrid pride, ingrat- 
itude, &Lc:j of neglecting to accept of them. These are some 
of the principal subjects on which I preach to inquirers. You 
will easily determine what are the most proper texts from 
v/hich to explain and enforce them. 

*^ With respect to our inquiry meetings, I can only tell you 
that we have them once a week, afternoons for females, even- 
ings for males. It is difficult to persuade them to converse as 
freely as might be v/ished. You will find, however, as your 
experience increases, that it is of little consequence whether 
they say much or not, as a single sentence will often give you 
as perfect a view of their character and feelings, as you could 
acquire from the longest conversation. But, if you wish them 
to converse with you with freedom, you must visit them at 
home. Your greatest danger will be in comforting them too 
soon. All comfort is dangerous till they surrender uncondi- 
tionally to the sovereign grace of God. It is much safer to err 
on the other side." 

The extract which follows describes the origin of a meeting 
that was long continued, and signally blessed : — 

^^iVov. 14, 1814. 

** Three weeks since, I preached to the young, from the 
words of Christ, when twelve years old — ' I must be about my 
Father's business.' At the close of the sermon, I invited all 
the young men, who were fully determined to engage immedi- 
ately in their Father's work, to meet me in the evening, and, 
at the same time, told them I was not confident that any of 
them would come. However, about forty attended. After 
stating to them the difficulties and temptations they would 
meet with, and the sacrifices they must make in a religious 
course, I advised them to consider of it a fortnight, and, if 
X\v}y still felt resolved to persevere, to meet me again. About 



EDWARD PAYSON. 211 

thirty came the second evening ; and, though I cannot calcu- 
late upon all, or even the major part of them, becoming Chris- 
tians, yet I hope some of them will.'' 

Two or three times, during his ministry, he adopted what 
would be generally regarded as bold measures ; and they would 
have been absolutely rash and injurious, had they not origina- 
ted in a sincere and glowing zeal for God, and the eternal 
welfare of men. It would be hazardous for another to imitate 
him herein, without some portion of his spirit. Yet who, that 
estimates the worth of the soul, will dare to censure his con- 
duct, or say that the importance of the object was not, at least, 
commensurate with his zeal ? 

''Feb. 21, 1S15. 

" We have a great revival commencing. We have been 
expecting it some time ; and, a few weeks since, at the close 
of a suitable sermon, I 'informed the congregation that I be- 
lieved God was about to^^less us, and told them that the quar- 
terly fast of the church'*^^as at hand, and that, if they would 
consent to unite with the dmrch in the fast, we would meet 
in the meeting-house, instead of the conference room, where 
we usually assemble on such occasions. At the same time, 1 
invited those who were willing to meet the church to signify 
it by rising. About two thirds of the congregation instantly 
rose. It was a most solemn scene. The church, to whom 
the measure was altogether unexpected, were almost over- 
whelmed with various emotions, and scarcely knew whether 
to be glad or sorry, to hope or fear. You may well suppose 
that the interval between the Sabbath and the fast was a trying 
season to me. I felt that I had completely committed myself — 
that my all was at stake — that, if a blessing did not attend the 
measure, every mouth would be open to condemn it ; and 
it seemed as if I could hardly survive a disappointment. I 
should not have taken such a step, had I not believed I had 
sufficient reason for trusting that God would bear me out in 
it ; and I thought if he did not bear me out, I never should 
again know what to expect — never should feel confidence to 
pray. I expected severe trials, but had few fears of the event. 
The trials came, but they did not come in the way that I ex- 
pected, and therefore I was surprised and overcome by them. 
The day of the fast was the most dreadful day of my life — the 
day in which I had most dreadful proofs of more than diaboli- 
cal depravity of heart. The meeting-house was full, but things 
did not go on in the manner I had hoped and expected. I 



212 MEMOIR OF 

thought all was lost ; and I now wonder that I lived through it 
— thai a broken heart, as Mr. Newton says disappointed pride 
and madness are called, was not the consequence. For some 
days, I saw and heard nothing encouraging, and my distress 
was unabated ; but at the next inquiry meeting, I found more 
than sixty inquirers. This number, within a week, was con- 
siderably increased, and eight or ten have obtained comfort. — 
The prospect is now more encouraging than it has been since 
my settlement." 

Below is an incidental mention of the multiplicity of his 
labors, from which may be inferred the despatch with which 
he habitually executed his appropriate work : — 

" My avocations were never so numerous. I have two ser- 
mons, which I wish, if possible, to prepare for the press, but 
fear I never shall find time. I have ^*:so three ordination ser- 
mons to preach within two months, "sermons before two mis- 
sionary societies within the same t;:^ie, and, on the second 
Sabbath in July, I have an engagement to preach in Ports- 
mouth, before the managers of the Female Asylum. Besides 
this, I preach four sermons, and attend two inquiry meetings, 
weekly, &:.c. &c. Judge, then, whether I am not worn out, 
and whether I do not need your prayers more than ever. As 
to a revival, my wishes for it are not, cannot, be too strong, if 
they are disinterested, and not selfish. Though I am wearing 
myself out, it is, I sometimes fear, rather in the service of self 
than in the service of God; and this reflection imbitters every 
thing I do. It would be heaven to labor for God, but it is 
misery to labor for one's self As to the slang you heard about 
a revelation, I need not tell you that there is no truth in it. 
However, I hope the Lord has some people yet to be gathered 
in here. We have admitted thirty-three since the year came 
in, and nine stand propounded ; the number of inquirers about 
one hundred, and slowly increasing." 

-'April 13, 1820. 

" We have some encouraging appearances, as we have oflen 
had before, but nothing decisive. Last Sabbath, I invited the 
male part of the parish, who were willing to be considered in- 
quirers after religion, to meet me in the evening. Between 
thirty and forty attended, but I fear that very few of them are 
deeply impressed. We have about the same number of fe- 
males^ who are in a similar state ; and it seems, as it has for 



EDWARD PAYSON. 213 

a long time, that, if God would work a little more powerfully, 
there would be a great revival. But I desire to wait." 

"August 6, \S2l. 

" As to my desires for a revival, I have not, and never had, 
the least doubt that they are exceedingly corrupt and sinfuL 
A thousand wrong motives have conspired to excite them. 
Still I do not believe that my desires were ever half so strong 
as they ought to be ; nor do I see how a minister can help 
being in a * constant fever,' in such a town as this, where his 
Master is dishonored, and souls are destroyed in so many ways. 
You can scarcely conceive how many things occur, almost 
daily, to distress and crush me. All these are nothing, when 
my Master is v/ith me ; but, when he is absent, I am of all 
men most miserable. But now he is with me, and I am happy, 

" We have just set up a meeting on a new plan. Notes, to 
this effect, are put into a box at the door : — 'A member of this 
church desires prayers for the conversion of a husband, a child, 
a parent,' ^c, as the case may be. These notes are then 
read, and prayers are offered. We have had but one meeting; 
the evening was rainy, but nearly forty notes were given in, 
and it v/as the most solemn meeting we have had for a long 
time. Among the notes were two from persons who think 
they were deceived when they made a profession of religion, 
desiring prayers that they may be truly converted. The 
church has also had a day of thanksgiving, lately, to acknowl- 
edge what God has done for us, and it was a comfortable sea- 
son. — These things give me some encouragement ; but we 
have been so often disappointed, that I scarcely dare to hope.'^ 

A letter to a young clergyman, written soon after the pre- 
ceding extract, contains a still more complete sketch of his 
labors at this time. It has been extensively copied by the re- 
ligious periodicals of the country, one of which professes to be 
* shocked at his expressions in relation to revivals,' as indicat- 
ing * that temerity which would rely on the impotent arm of 
the creature.' If his language is susceptible of such a con- 
struction, it most unhappily misrepresents his judgment and 
his heart. For, though he was " abundant in labors," no man 
ever ascribed less efficiency/ to means, or felt more entirely his 
exclusive dependence upon the Holy Spirit. 

" My dear Bro ther, " Portland, Aug. 11, 1821 . 

" I have I xst received your kind letter, and hope it has done 
me some good. I thank you for it, though the perusal of it 



214 MEMOIR OF 

has given me much pain. It is evident that you think far 
more favorably ^f me than I deserve ; and your applying to 
me for advice shames and mortifies me exceedingly. But I 
dare not say w^hat I feel on this subject, lest you should think 
me humble, which is far enough from being the case. Be- 
sides, you wish me to write respecting myself and my labors, 
and this is the very subject on which I am most unwilling to 
write, because I find it most dangerous. It affords an oppor- 
tunity for gratifying an accursed spirit of self-seeking, which 
has ever been my bane and torment, and which insinuates it- 
self into every thing I say or do. I know not that I have ever 
spoken of myself without furnishing cause for sorrow and 
shame. How, then, can I write as you request me to do ? or 
what can I say that will be of any service to you ? But you 
will reply that God can bless the feeblest means. True ; 
and therefore I will write, though I foresee that I shall smart 
for it. 

" You ask for a general view of my pastoral labors, method 
of preaching, &c. 6lc. Since the failure of my health, I 
preach but three sermons in a week — two on the Sabbath, 
and one on Thursday evening. On that evening and Sabbath 
morning, I preach without notes, but generally form a skele- 
ton of my sermon. I should like to write more, but my health 
will not permit ; and I find that, when any good is done, it is 
my extempore sermons which do it. I am afraid of producing 
a faith which stands not in the power of God, but in the wis- 
dom of men, and, therefore, make as little use as possible of 
human arguments, but confine myself to a plain, simple exhi- 
bition of divine truth. The sword of the Spirit will not wound 
if it has a scabbard on it. I also aim to preach the truths of 
the gospel in a practical and experimental, rather than a dry 
and speculative manner. In preaching to professing Chris- 
tians, I endeavor to rouse and humble, rather than to comfort 
them ; for, if they can be kept humble, comfort will follow of 
course. Besides, I do not suppose that Christians need as 
much consolation now as they did in the primitive ages, when 
exposed to persecution. 

" Our church is divided into seven districts ; the members of 
each district meet for prayer and conversation once a month, 
and the brethren residing in each district are a standing com- 
mittee of the church, for that district, to supply the wants of the 
poor, and bring before the church, in due form, any case of 
discipline which may occur. — We have a monthly meeting of 
all the brethren for business, a church conference every Tues- 
day evening, a prayer meeting on Friday evening, a monthly 



EDWARD PAYSON. 215 

prayer meeting for the Sabbath schools, and the monthly 
union concert for prayer. We have also an inquiry meeting 
for males, on Sabbath evening, and for females, on Friday a£ 
ternoon. 

*' As to method in the division of time, I have none ; but live 
altogether extempore. This is partly owning to the wretched 
state of my health, which deprives me of at least three days in 
every week, and partly to continual interruptions from visiters, 
whom I must see. I knew not how to bear this, till I met 
with the following maxim of an eminent minister : " TVie man 
who wants me is the man I want.'' 

"My rule, in regard to visiting, is to visit as much as time and 
health will permit. I make none but pastoral visits. I gave 
my people to understand, when I was settled, that they must 
never invite me to dine or sup when they did not wish to have 
the conversation turn wholly on religious subjects. This has 
saved me much time and trouble. 

*' The books which I have found most useful to me are Ed- 
wards's Works, Brainerd's Life, Newton's Letters, Owen's 
Treatise on Indwelling Sin, Mortification of Sin in Believers, 
and the 130th Psalm, and Thomas a Kempis's Imitation of 
Christ, translated by Payne — for Stanhope's translation I think 
not so good. If you have not seen Thomas a Kempis, I beg 
you to procure it. Some things you will not like ; but, for spir- 
ituality and weanedness from the world, I know of nothing 
equal to it. Perhaps I ought to include, in the above list, 
Baxter's Reformed Pastor, and Saint's Rest. 

" It would require a volume to detail the experiments I have 
made, and the means I have used to effect a revival of relig- 
ion ; and, after it was written, it v/ould not be worth reading. 
I will, however, just mention what we are doing now. We 
have established a prayer meeting on the following plan : — 
Members of the church, and others, if they think proper, pre- 
sent notes requesting prayers for the conversion of any friend 
or relative for whom they feel anxious. No names are men- 
tioned. The notes are placed in a small box by the door, and 
afterwards handed to me to be read. We have had two meet- 
ings. They were uncommonly solemn, and many of the notes 
were very aifecting. One was, " A female stranger desires 
your prayers for her conversion.'' Another, " One of the so- 
ciety desires your prayers for the conversion of her husband 
and herself." Several were from old professors, who fear that 
they have been deceived, and a great number from husbands, 
wives, and parents, desiring prayers for their partners, chil- 
dren, &/C. When we came to spread all these cases before 



215 MExMOIR OF 

God as the only Giver of good things, the scene was awfully 
solemH and affecting. 

* * * * 

** I think with you, that the management of a revival is a very 
difficult thing. It is, I believe, a subject as yet but very imper- 
fectly understood. At least, I know but very little of it. 

" I think I can conceive, in some measure, of the inconve- 
nience you experience in consequence of the great extent of 
your parish. It must be exceedingly difficult to collect your 
church together as often as you would wish, and to perform 
ministerial duties. A minister, however, who has but a small 
parish, is required to do all that he can, and you are required 
to do no more. Still it is exceedingly painful to see many 
things which need to be done, but which we cannot find time 
or strength to do. My parish, as well as my heart, very much 
resembles the garden of the sluggard ; and, what is v/orse, I 
find that most of my desires for the melioration of both pro- 
ceed either fi-om pride, or vanity, or indolence. I look at the 
weeds which overspread my garden, and breathe out an ear- 
nest wish that they were eradicated. But why J What 
prompts the wish ? It may be that I may walk out and say to 
myself, " In what fine order is my garden kept !" This is 
pride. Or it may be that my neighbors may look over the 
wall, and say, *' How finely your garden flourishes !'^ This is 
vanity. Or I may wish for the destruction of the weeds be- 
cause I am weary of pulling them up. This is indolence. 
Yet from such sources, I fear, do most of my desires for per- 
sonal holiness, and for the progress of religion in my society, 
proceed. I hope and trust it is otherwise with you. 

** As I write v/ith perfect freedom, I Vv^ill take the liberty to 
mention one thing more, which, if I always attended to it, 
would, I believe, be highly beneficial. The disciples, we 
read, " returned to Jesus, and told him all things, both what 
they had done and what they had taught." I think, that if 
we would, every evening, come to our Master's feet, and tell 
him where we have been, what we have done, what we have 
said, and what were the motives by which we have been actu- 
ated, it would have a salutary effect upon our whole conduct. 
While reading over each day's page of life, with the conscious- 
ness that He was reading it with us, we should detect many 
errors and defects, which would otherwise pass unnoticed. 
Pardon this hint. I trust you do not need it. 

*' I have written a long letter, and yet, I fear, said nothing 
which will be of the smallest service to you. But you must, 
as our kind Master does, take the will for the deed. May He 



EDWARD PAYSON. 217 

fill you with the Holy Ghost, and with faith, and make you in- 
strumental of adding much people to the Lord. So prays your 
sincere friend." 

He was particularly observant of current events, and careful 
to make them all subservient to the great purposes of his min- 
istry. By these his exhortations were often enforced ; and 
hence some of the severest reproofs which he administered 
were drawn. At the close of public worship, one Sabbath, he 
gave notice that the different churches in the town would ob- 
serve the following Wednesday as a day of fasting and prayer 
for divine influences ; and, after mentioning that religious ex- 
ercises would be attended in the morning, afternoon, and 
evening, he observed : '^ Should any be disposed to ask, with 
the Phaiisecs of old, * To what purpose is this waste of time V 
I would remind them of the attention lately bestowed on an 
earthly benefactor. One united, earnest request was made 
to him, that he would visit this country, for which, in times of 
trial, he had sacrificed ease and domestic comfort, and hazard- 
ed his life and treasure. He acceded to the invitation of a 
grateful people ; he has visited you. You spared neither time 
nor expense to give him an honorable reception. And have 
you not, my friends, a Heavenly Benefactor, from whom you 
receive every good and perfect gift ? a Saviour, who has given 
his life to redeem you from everlasting bondage and misery ? 
When will one hearty, united request arise from this place, 
that our God and Redeemer will visit us? And should he 
come, would he be welcomed as was the benefactor just allud- 
ed to ? It is true that, in one sense, God is ever present ; but 
he can be with us in such a manner, that his presence will be 
felty and the effects of it made visible. And the effects of his 
absence, too, may be seen, wliile no cheering rays of his life- 
giving Spirit are imparted. And shall we grudge a day, to be 
devoted to special entreaty, that he would come in the chariot 
of his salvation, from conquering to conquer ? that he would 
make us glad with the light of his countenance ? Was one 
day too short for all the acknowledgments which we were 
desirous to make to our nation's friend ? and is it too long to 
be devoted to him who is the Redeemer of the world, from 
whom Cometh our salvation, and whose favor is immortal life ?" 

Among his various methods of drawing attention to the sub- 
ject of religion, and impressing the mind with its importance, 
the following is, perhaps, worthy of preservation, for the prac- 
tical hint which it conveys : — 
19 



218 " MEMOIR OF 

" Once, in the course of my ministry, I made an analysis of 
all the sermons which I had preached to my people for six 
months, and imbodied it in one sermon, and preached it to 
them. They were astonished, and I was astonished, at the 
amount of truth which had been presented to them, and, to 
human appearance, with very little effect." — How descriptive 
of his constant solicitude, and of the various exertions to which 
it prompted him, are the lines of the poet : — 

" And as a bird each fond endearment tries 
To tempt its new-fledged offspring- to the skies, 
He tried each art^ reproved each dull delay, 
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." 

It would be matter for lamentation, if the preceding state- 
ments of insulated facts should be so interpreted as to convey 
to strangers an impression altogether erroneous respecting 
Dr. Payson's general mann:r of exercising the"^ministry. He 
was a stanch friend to t)-^ ** good old way," and generally 
adhered to it in the discharge of ministerial duties : his devia- 
tions were circumstantial. He differed from others in the 
zeal and earnestness with which he prosecuted the ordinary 
routine of clerical services, more than in the novelty and ex- 
travagance of his measures. The new aspect which his so- 
ciety assumed, in consequence of the blessing of God upon his 
faithful and zealous labors, required meetings and exercises 
of a specific character, and, of course, some addition to their 
number. To render these in the highest degree subservient 
to the spiritual good of his charge, was his uniform aim, in the 
pursuit of which he made the most felicitous use of every prov- 
idential event and every noticeable fact in the circumstances 
of his people, as a means of enforcing truths and duties of im- 
mediate and indispensable importance. His very few direct 
deviations from the regular course, particularly calling upon 
the congregation to rise, though adopted from a full convic- 
tion, at the time, that the crisis demanded them, seem to have 
been viewed by him afterwards as of rather questionable expe- 
diency, as is evident from the apology which the reader has 
already seen, under date of Feb. 21, 1815, and from an allu- 
sion yet to be seen, in his diary, where he characterizes them 
as " extraordinary, and perhaps imprudent measures." A fre- 
quent resort to them he most certainly would not justify ; for 
he makes their defence to rest on the extraordinary circum- 
stances of the case, and on the fact that he adopted them '* af- 
ter much prayer for direction." It should be remembered, 
too, that he was the established pastor, that he stood high in 
the affecti/ )ns and confidence of his people, who had witnessed 



^SSOi 



EDWARD PAYSON. 219 

the rapid growth of his extraordinary piety, for a period of eight 
or ten years, without having discovered a single circumstance 
to discredit its reality or strength. They knew him to be a 
man of great simplicity of purpose, who did nothing for stage 
effect ; and whatever might be their judgment of particular 
acts, they were sure he watched for their souls as one that 
must give account, and was not accustomed to ' say a word 
to sinners, except when he had a broken heart himself* 
These and other circumstances, which might be mentioned, 
distinguish his measures from those of the mere temporary or 
itinerant preacher, and afford, at most, but a very dubious 
sanction to the wilder tendencies of some more recent evan- 
gelists. 

The feelings which prompted and sustained his restless ac- 
tivity for the glory of God and the salvation of men, very fre- 
quently disclose themselves in his correspondence and diary : — 

'' December ^^, 1821. 

" I do not think you understand my feelings about a revival. 
Unless I am very much deceived, I have no controversy with 
God respecting it. But ought a minister to feel easy while 
his people are perishing, and Christians are dishonoring their 
Master ? Did not Paul feel great heaviness, and continual 
sorrow of heart, for his countrymen ? All the joy and grati- 
tude he felt, in view of what God had done for him and by 
him, could not rem.ove that sorrow. And the prophet would 
weep day and night for the daughter of his people. Instead 
of feeling less, it seems to me that I ought to feel more, and to 
have no rest. But I do not murmur at God's dealings. I 
only wonder that he ever did any thing for me or by me ; and 
that he has not, long since, cast me out of his vineyard. As 
to the bed-ridden female you mention, I see nothing very 
wonderful in her rejoicing and gratitude. Well may she re- 
joice and be grateful when she is filled full of divine consola- 
tion. She has outward trials, it is true ; but what are they, 
when Christ is ptesent ? Who wants candles when he has 
the sun ? Give me her consolations, and I will sing as loud 
as she does. And let her have my showers of fiery darts, and 
my other trials, and, unless I am much mistaken, she will 
groan as much as I do. I have seen very young Christians 
terribly afflicted by bodily pain and sickness, for months to- 
gether, and all the time full of joy and thankfulness ; and I 
have seen the same persons afterwards, when they were sur- 
rounded by temporal mercies, show very little of either. — 
Things seem to be a little on the mending hand; and the 



220 MEMOIR OF 

church are again beginning to hope for a reviral. Last Sab- 
bath was an uncommonly solemn day." 

"Aug. 20, 1823. 

"It has been, and still is, a season of spiritual deadness 
among us. I have preached so plainly, especially to the 
church, that I feared they would not bear it, and that we 
should come to an open rupture. However, they have borne 
it very well, and there seems now to be more of a disposition 
among them to make exertion ; but it is impossible to say what 
the result will be. 

" If you have not written to lately, it would be well 

to cheer him with a letter. Poor man ! he seems to be just 
entering on Newton's second stage, the characteristic of which, 
you recollect, is coiiflict. However, I trust he will be carried 
safely through. I wish, with all my heart, that Satan would 
fight against the peace of some of our church more than he 
does ; but he is too cunning to do that. He sees that they 
are slumbering, and he will take care not to wake them. You 
can scarcely form an idea how soporific the air of a seaport 
is, nor of the irresistible force with which the world assails 
Christians in such a place as this. The moment they step out 
of doors, it rushes in at their eyes and ears, in ten thousand 
shapes, so that, unless their hearts are pre-occupied with better 
things, they are filled with it in a moment. — By turns I expos- 
tulate, and plead, and warn, and threaten, and weep, and pray, 
and sometimes almost scold, but all in vain. The world drags 
away its victims, and laughs my feeble efforts to scorn." 

''Vec.5, 1823. 

" A few weeks since, I set up a Bible class for young per- 
sons over fourteen years of age. About two hundred and fifty 
attend, and some of them appear interested ; but none are 
awakened as yet. However, God must have some chosen 
ones among the rising generation, and he will, sooner or later, 
bring them in ; but I fear that all, or nearly all, who have 
passed the meridian of life — I mean in my society — are given 
over to final hardness of heait." 

"Ja/i. 31, 1824. 
" Yesterday was our quarterly fast, and I pursued a new 
method. I first confessed my own sins to the church, asked 
their forgiveness, and then requested them to unite with me 
in praying that God would forgive me, and ordain me afresh 
as their pastor. I then, havings as I hope, cast the beam out 



EDWARD PAYSON. ' 221 

of my own eye, proceeded to take the mote out of the eye of 
my brethren. I first called upon the deacons to follow my 
example, if they thought proper, by confessing their sins, and 
appointing one of their number to lead in prayer, that they 
might be forgiven. A similar call was then made upon the 
brethren, and, after that, upon the sisters, for whom I acted 
as mouth. A great deal was said, which I cannot write, but 
for want of which you will not fully understand our method 
of proceeding, nor all the reasons of it. It must suffice to say, 
that we attempted to obey, on a large scale, the exhortation 
of James, — ' Confess your faults one to another, and pray for 
one another, that ye may be healed.' I cannot but hope that 
it will prove to have been a profitable season, and that a bless- 
ing will follow it." 

"Mry 2, 1825. 

" I returned last week on Wednesday, preached a prepara- 
tory lecture on Thursday, attended the church quarterly fast 
on Friday, prepared for the Sabbath on Saturday, and, yester- 
day, preached twice, administered the sacrament, and address- 
ed and prayed with the baptized youth. The consequence is 
that I am only half alive this morning. L. and a young lady 
who boards with us were very much affected by the address 
to baptized youth. They wept all the last evening, and ap- 
pear very solemn this morning ; but L. has so often been af^ 
fected in a similar manner, that I dare not promise myself 
much from present appearances. It is, however, evident that 
the Holy Spirit is constantly striving with her ; she is never 
perfectly at ease ; and I cannot but hope she will, ere long, 
become a subject of grace. 

*' In a religious view, things remain with us very much as 
they have been, though I think the church, or some of them, 
at least, are becoming more alive than they were. — I have 
lately had some delightful meditations on the priesthood of 
Christ. I was led to them by thinking how a penitent Israel- 
ite must have regarded his high priest. We may consider 
such a man as saying — ^ I am a miserable, polluted sinner. 
I cannot enter the holy place where God dwells, but am kept 
at a distance. I cannot burn incense acceptably, cannot be 
permitted even to offer my own sacrifice. But I have a high 
priest, appointed and consecrated by God, who is permitted to 
approach him on my behalf He carries my name, or the 
name of my tribe, on his breast-plate. He offers sacrifice /br 
me ; he burns incense for me ; he enters the most holy place, 
and sprinkles atoning blood for me. In him I am accepted, 
19* 



222 MEMOIR OF 

and in him will I glory. Take away my high priest, and you 
take away my all ; but, while I have him, while he is accept- 
ed in my behalf, I will exult and rejoice.' And with how 
much more reason may the Christian triumph and glory in 
his Great High Priest, and rejoice that he is * accepted in the 
Beloved.' I do not mention these thoughts as any thing new, 
but as thoughts which have been peculiarly sweet and precious 
to me of late. Yet, alas ! I am continually seeking to be my 
own high priest, to find something in myself, for the sake of 
which I may be accepted, at least in part. How happy are 
you, my dear mother, to have gotten almost through this wea- 
risome, terrible conflict ! Your trials and sufferings are al- 
most ended, and the blessed fruit of them is all to come." 

These extracts furnish specimens of his zeal, and his vari- 
ous methods of exerting himself for the promotion of religion 
at different periods of his ministry ; but it would be doing 
him great injustice to leave any room for the inference that 
the intervals between these dates were seasons of relaxation 
or indolence. Such seasons he never allowed himself His 
labors were never suspended, unless physical debility rendered 
the prosecution of them impossible. His religion was not 
intermittent. With him time was a precious talent, and he 
'^paid no moment but in purchase of its worth." He would 
not willingly suffer an hour to pass away without some effort 
for the recovery of lost sinners. Whatever were the declen- 
sion of those around him, his ardor in religion, and his exer- 
tions for its advancement, suffered no visible abatement. On 
the contrary, the darkest times were those in which he was 
eminently "jealous for the Lord of hosts," a living witness to 
the power of divine grace, and a living reproof to such as * had 
gone away backward.' When he saw his fellow men indiffer- 
ent to their own salvation — when he saw "reigning crime and 
hastening death" — it was " a spectacle which made" his heart 
ache, and " his eyes weep," He expostulated, he warned, he 
entreated, he mourned in secret places, he "ran between the 
dead and the living," and earnestly interceded with God to 
interpose for their salvation. He could " not hold his peace, 
nor take rest," when Zion was in affliction, and *none coming 
to the solemn feast.' As it respects the progress of the Re- 
deemer's cause, he seemed always to glow with the spirit and 
feelings which most are accustomed to regard as a privilege 
peculiar to a time of general revival. These feelings must 
have *>een subject to some inequalities even in him ; but they 
s^em 'lever to have sunk to a point which was not above the 



EDWARD PAYSON. {J23 

Standard of attainment with ordinary men in their most favor- 
ed seasons. He was, indeed, often discouraged with respect 
to himself and his own personal prospects ; but, if he ever 
suffered any declension in zeal for the glory of God, in the 
salvation of others, it was of such temporary duration as to 
produce no perceptible effect on his use of means. If there 
was a time, during his whole ministry, when he was not ar- 
dently desirous, and, to the extent of his ability, actively labo- 
rious, for the conversion of sinners, the fact was not observa- 
ble by his people, nor even by his most intimate friends. 

He loved his work : when not exhausted by fatigue, or de- 
pressed by illness, he was specially fond of the exercise of 
preaching — so much so, that he considered it no favor for a 
way-faring brother to offer to supply his place, gratuitously, on 
a Sabbath. He felt, to use his own comparison, about as 
much obligation for such an offer, as he should to a man for 
proposing to eat up a good dinner, prepared for himself, when 
he was half starved. In preparing for the pulpit, it was his in- 
variable object to introduce so much of the grand truths of the 
gospel into every discourse, that a person who had never heard 
a sermon before, and should never hear another, might learn 
from it v/hat w^as essential to salvation. While his sermons 
generally bore this uniform feature, they were endlessly vari- 
ous in other respects. He seldom selected a text without ref- 
erence to the known circumstances of his church and congre- 
gation ; and so wakeful and diligent was he, *' to know the 
state of his flock,'' that he scarcely ever failed in the adapta- 
tion of his subject. So dexterously did he wield the sword of 
the Spirit, and so fully and accurately discern and expose *' the 
thoughts and intents of the heart," that, to this day, there are 
those who believe he obtained his information concerning them 
from eaves-droppers and '^ old women." 

But, among all his services in the house of God, none, 
perhaps, were more signally blessed than his exercises at the 
communion table. Uniformly, this ordinance was, in a high 
degree, refreshing to his own spirit. Hither he delighted to 
come and quench his thirst for the water of life. Here he 
met the Saviour, " who bore our sins in his own body on the 
tree," and who, '^ having himself suffered, being tempted, 
knoweth how to succor them that are tempted." For him the 
crucified Son of God had incomparable attractions. He saw 
in Christ that kind, sympathizing, all-powerful High Priest, 
who was suited to the wants of which he felt so deeply con- 
scious. And he always came to this sacred feast with a soul 
full of tenderness, and dwelt on the love of a suffering Saviour 



224 MEMOIR OF 

with a pathos that was irresistible. Here, in an unrivalled 
degree, his * heart indited good matter, and his tongue was 
the pen of a ready writer.' " Jesus Christ was, indeed, set 
forth crucified before the eyes" of the admiring communi- 
cants. His person, attributes, and offices, as the Redeemer 
of our lost race ; his marvellous compassion in dying to atone 
for our sins ; his intercession at the right hand of the Father ; 
the glories and terrors of his second coming, — were so dis- 
tinctly and affectingly exhibited, as to excite the correspond- 
ing emotions in all hearts which were not harder than the 
nether mill-stone. Those who could sympathize with the ad- 
ministrator, while contemplating Christ as Mediator, * by whom 
we have access to God, and redemption through his blood, 
even the forgiveness of our sins, according to the riches of his 
grace,' felt that, in sinning against Christ, they had wounded 
their best, tenderest, almighty Friend. And O how hateful 
was sin made to appear ! how loathsome 1 how heartily was it 
renounced ! how fervently its future commission deprecated ! 
and then the renewed and unreserved dedication of soul and 
body to God, as a living, holy, acceptable, and reasonable 
sacrifice ! " How sweet and awful was the place," while seal- 
ing their vows, and Christ his pardons, with the consecrated 
symbols of his body and blood ! How precious was the com- 
munion of saints with Jesus, and with one another ! — To hun- 
dreds have these sacred scenes been earnests of the heavenly 
inheritance. And the interest which he gave to the occasion 
by his spirituality, his knowledge of the heart, of the Saviour, 
of the mysteries of redemption, by his appropriate and impres- 
sive appeals, usually detained a great number who were not 
communicants. The spectators were as numerous as the 
guests ; and what they heard and witnessed was not unfre- 
quently the means of conviction. 

This, too, was his chosen occasion to impress on baptized 
youth a sense of their obligations to devote themselves to their 
God and Redeemer ; and a more suitable one could not have 
been selected. There are many who will remember it with 
everlasting gratitude. When it is recollected how much there 
is in this scene to render instructions impressive on the minds 
of this class of youth, might not ministers generally take a val- 
uable hint from his practice ? 

The church fasts and conferences, when conducted by the 
pastor, were, next to those of the communion, the most hum- 
ble, melting, edifying, and instructive seasons which his high- 
ly favored flock enjoyed. Here he employed his faith, his 
imagination, and the various resources of his richly furnished 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



225 



mind; to show them their actual condition, and urge them for- 
ward in their Christian course. So distinctly and clearly could 
he illustrate the different degrees of Christian attainment, and 
mark the different shades and varieties of religious experience 
in all its gradations, from the babe to the perfect man in 
Christ Jesus, that, it would seem, every Christian present must 
have known his precise rank. A specimen of his manner, as 
near as can be recollected, may be thus stated : — 

*' Suppose professors of religion to be ranged in different 
concentric circles around Christ, as their common centre. 
Some value the presence of their Saviour so highly, that they 
cannot bear to be at any remove from him. Even their work 
they will bring up, and do it in the light of his countenance ; 
and, while engaged in it, will be seen constantly raising their 
eyes to him, as if fearful of losing one beam of his light. Oth- 
ers, who, to be sure, would not be content to live out of his 
presence, are yet less wholly absorbed by it than these, and 
may be seen a little farther off, engaged here and there in their 
various callings, their eyes generally upon their work, but often 
looking up for the light which they love. A third class, be- 
yond these, but yet within the life-giving rays, includes a doubt- 
ful multitude, many of whom are so much engaged in their 
worldly schemes, that they may be seen standing sideways to 
Christ, looking mostly the other way, and only now and then 
turning their faces towards the light. And yet farther out, 
amongst the last scattered rays, so distant that it is often doubt- 
ful whether they come at all within their influence, is a mixed 
assemblage of busy ones, some with their backs wholly turned 
upon the sun, and most of them so careful and troubled about 
their many things, as to spare but little time for their Saviour. 

" The reason why the men of the world think so little of 
Christ, is, they do not look at him. Their backs being turned 
to the sun, they can see only their own shadows ; and are, 
therefore, wholly taken up with themselves. While the true 
disciple, looking only upward, sees nothing but his Saviour, 
and learns to forget himself" 

'^ The growth of grace in the heart may be compared to the 
process of f>olishing metals. First, you have a dark, opaque 
substance, neither possessing nor reflecting light. Presently, 
as the polisher plies his work, you will see here and there a 
spark darting out ; then a strong light ; till, by and by, it sends 
kick a perfect image of the sun which shines upon it. So the 
work of grace, if begun in our hearts, must be gradually and 



226 MEMOIR OF 

continually going on ; and it will not be completed, till the 
image of God can be seen perfectly reflected in us." 

At a church fast, in the time of a revival, he mentioned, as 
dangers to be guarded against, and as causes of the suspension 
of divine influences, — 

1. " Christians, in times of refreshing from the presence 
of the Lord, are apt to be so much taken up in conversing and 
laboring with sinners, that, from concern for the souls of oth- 
ers, they neglect their own spiritual interests. This may do 
very well for a time, but in the end will be productive of much 
evil. I do not mean to dissuade you from laboring for the 
good of others, but to warn you to take care of your own souls. 

2. " Christians are in danger, when a revival has continu- 
ed for some time, of praying less for its continuance, and of 
being less thankful for it. They seem to take it for granted, 
that it will go on, as a matter of course ; their prayers grow 
less frequent and fervent, and their gratitude less lively, until, 
at length, a case of conversion, which would, at first, have 
electrified the whole church, produces scarcely any sensation 
at all. Now, when this is the case, a revival will certainly 
cease; for God never continues to bestow spiritual favors 
where they are not felt to be such. 

3. " Another reason why revivals do not continue longer, 
is, that there is so much animal excitement mixed with them. 
It is a law of our nature, that the duration of merely animal 
feelings should be in inverse proportion to their strength. 
These are no part of spirituality and holiness ; for the more 
holy we are, the less we shall have of them. Our Saviour had 
none of these feelings. Strive to repress animal feeling, and 
to be more purely spiritual.'^ 

" We read that Nadab and Abihu, on the day of their con- 
secration to the priesthood, instead of taking holy fire, with 
which to burn incense, took strange, that is, common fire, and 
were punished by immediate death for their presumption. To 
us this may appear a slight offence. We may think one fire 
equally good with another. But our God is a jealous God, and 
we must make our offerings in the manner he has commanded, 
and with a right spirit, or they will be an offence in his sight, 
and he will not accept them." 

Mr. Payson was never more happy than when guiding in- 
qurers to *' the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the 



EDWARD FAYSON. «J27 

world." Some of the " similitudes/* by which he endeavored 
to illustrate the nature of experimental religion, and assist in- 
quirers in judging of the character of their own exercises, have 
been preserved in the memory of several of his later converts, 
and will not be unwelcome to any class of readers. They do 
not profess to be reported in precisely his language, and, on 
this account, due allowance must be made. Much of their 
original force and appositeness is doubtless lost. 

*' Suppose a number of persons standing by a river's side. 
They are invited to drink of its waters, but they are not thirsty, 
and, therefore, do not desire them. At length their thirst is 
excited, and they look round for a vessel, with whicR to take 
up some water. But their vessels are all filled with some 
worthless thing, which they are as yet unwilling to part with. 
But, as their thirst increases, they become willing to relinquish 
what they had thought of so much value, and, finally, emptying 
their vessels of this rubbish, and receiving the water, they 
quench their thirst. Thus it is with sinners : Jesus Christ in- 
vites them to come to him, the Fountain of living waters. But 
they decline his invitations — their hearts being filled with the 
treasures of earth. They do not thirst for Christ till God 
takes away the love of this world and its vanities, and the 
Holy Spirit fills them with desire to come to him. Then they 
hunger and thirst afi:er righteousness, and are prepared to re- 
ceive Christ." 

" Were a man suddenly precipitated into the sea, and, after 
making ineffectual struggles to save himself, to give up all for 
lost — should he at this crisis perceive a boat approaching, and 
a friendly hand extended for his rescue, he would, at first, 
scarcely credit his senses, or realize that he was safe ; his joy 
would be so great, and his gratitude to his preserver so ardent. 
But after the first transports had subsided, he would feel more 
real pleasure in contemplating the vessel, in admirmg the wis- 
dom apparent in its construction, and its admirable adapted- 
ness for savinoj from death all who were in his late situation, 
than he would when he viewed it merely as the means of sa- 
ving his own life. So the sinner, when first he rinds himself 
rescued from destruction, is full of love to Christ for his pecu- 
liar and unmerited mercy to himself But as he increases in 
knowledge and Christian attainments, has clearer views of the 
character of God, and the wisdom and grace which appear in 
the plan of redemption, his love has less and less of selfishness." 



228 MEMOIR OF 

** Suppose two persons equally desirous to gam your affec- 
tions — one far distant, and not expecting to see you for a long 
time ; the other always present with you, and at liberty to use 
all means to win your love, able to flatter and gratify you in a 
thousand ways. Still you prefer the absent one ; and, that you 
may keep him in remembrance, you often retire by yourself to 
think of his love to you, and view again and again the memen- 
tos of his affection, to read his letters, and pour out your heart 
in return. Such is now your case ; the world is always before 
you, to flatter, promise, and please. But if you really prefer to 
love God, you will fix your thoughts on him, often retire for 
meditation and prayer, and recount the pleasant gifts of his 
providence, and especially his infinite mercy to your soul ; you 
will read frequently his holy Word, which is the letter he has 
sent you, as really as if it were directed to you by name." 

*' Religion is the golden chain, which God lets down from 
heaven, with a link for every person in this room, inviting each 
to take hold, that you may be drawn by it to himself You 
can readily perceive how disagreeable it would be to be link- 
ed to one whom you disliked, and drawn by him whitherso- 
ever he wills ; but you would gladly be drawn and guided in 
every thing by the person whom you ardently loved. There 
is this difference between the Christian and the sinner. How- 
ever reluctant and full of hatred, still the sinner is controlled 
by God ; the Christian is equally in his hands, but is drawn by 
the cords of love." 

" Christ said to Mary, Fear not ; I know that you seek Jesus. 
If ye really seek Jesus, he says the same to you. Fear not — 
death, sorrow, sickness, any thing. If they are thus blessed, 
who seek Jesus, what must those be, who have found him?" 

To an inquirer, who complained that the difficulties in his 
way increased rather than diminished, he said — ** You might 
bind a bird with a soft, silken cord, and, while he remains still, 
he will not be sensible of his confinement ; but, as soon as he 
attempts to fly, he will feel the cord that confines him ; and 
the greater his desire and his efforts to escape, the more sensi- 
ble will he be of his bondage. So the sinner may long be 
a slave to his sins, and never be aware of it, till he rises to go 
to Christ." 

*' Every person has some object which he loves supremely ; 
and in every unrenewed man, that object is self. Suppose, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 229 

ibr illustration, that you have an image, which is, in reality, 
extremely ugly, but which you think beautiful, and you spend 
all your time in polishing and adorning it. At length, howev- 
er, you begin to see something of its deformity, but endeavor 
to conceal it from others, and, if possible, from yourself, by 
painting and dressing it. Notwithstanding all your efforts, it 
grows more and more ugly, till at last, in despair of amending it 
yourself, you pray that God would make it more lovely. It is 
evident in this case, that your prayers would not proceed from 
love to God, but from love to your idol ; and, therefore, there 
would be no goodness in them. Suppose that, during all this 
time, a person was entreating you to look at a beautiful dia- 
mond statue, which you refused to do ; until, wearied with 
useless efforts to make your image appear more beautiful, you 
turn and look at the statue. Immediately you see your idol 
in all its native deformity ; you cast it aside, and begin to ad- 
mire and extol the statue. This idol represents self, and ev- 
ery unrenewed person admires and loves it supremely. When 
his conscience is awakened to see something of his sinfulness, 
he first endeavors to make himself better ; and it is lo^g before 
he finds that he cannot change his own heart. When he finds 
that, notwithstanding all his endeavors, his heart seems to grow 
worse and worse, he prays to God for help. It is not from 
love to God, or because God has commanded it, that he prays ; 
but because he is unwilling to see himself so sinful ; so that 
his prayers arise merely from pride and selfishness. But if he 
will only turn and look to Christ, he sees his sins in a new 
light, and no longer loves himself supremely ; all his affections 
are transferred to Christ. He then prays to be made better, 
not to gratify his pride, but because he sees something of the 
beauty of holiness, and longs to resemble his divine Master?' 

*^ Suppose one man owes another a thousand pounds, but he 
is unable to pay the debt, and denies that he owes it. His 
creditor, being a very compassionate man, says to him, " I do 
not wish for your money, and as soon as you will own the debt 
to be a just one, I will release you from your obligation ; but I 
cannot do it before, for that would be in fact acknowledging 
that I am in the wrong." The poor man refuses to confess 
that he owes the money, and is, in consequence, sent to prison. 
After remaining there for a time, he sends his creditor word 
that he will allow he owes him a hundred pounds. But that 
will not do. Afler another interval, he says he will allow that 
he owes two hundred pounds ; and thus he keeps gradually 
giving up a little more, until he gets to nine hundred ; there 
20 



230 MEMOIR OF 

he stops a long while. At length, finding there is no other 
way of escape, he acknowledges the whole debt, and is releas- 
ed. Still it would be free, unmerited kindness in the creditor, 
and the poor man would have no right to say, " I partly deser- 
ved it, because I owned the debt ;" for he ought to have done 
that, whether he was liberated or not. Just in this manner 
we have treated God. When he comes and charges us with 
having broken his law, we deny it ; we will allow, perhaps, 
that we deserve a slight punishment, but not all which God 
has threatened. But if we are ever to be saved, God comes, 
and, as it were, shuts us up in prison ; that is, he awakens our 
consciences, and sends his Spirit to convince us of sin. Thus 
we every day see more and more of the desperate wickedness 
of our hearts, until we are ready to allow that we have deserved 
eternal condemnation. As soon as we acknowledge this, God 
is ready to pardon us ; but it is evident that we do not deserve 
pardon, that he is not under the least obligation to bestow it, 
and that all, who are saved, are saved through free, unmerited 
grace." 

** One excuse which awakened sinners are accustomed to 
allege in their own defence, is, that they wish to love God, and 
to have new hearts, but cannot. They do indeed wish to be 
saved, but they are not willing to be saved in God's way ; that 
is, they are not willing to accept salvation as a free gift. They 
would do any thing to huij it, but will not take it without mon- 
ey and without price. Suppose that you were very sick, and 
were told by the physician, that there was but one medicine in 
the world which could save your life, and that this was exceed- 
ingly precious. You were also told that there was but one 
person in the world who had any of this in his possession ; and 
that, although he was willing to give it to those who asked, he 
would, on no account, sell any. Suppose this person to be 
one whom you had treated with great neglect and contempt, 
injured in every possible way. How exceedingly unwilling 
would you be to send to him for the medicine as a gift ! You 
would rather purchase it at the expense of your whole fortune. 
You would defer sending as long as possible, and, when you 
found that you were daily growing worse, and nothing else 
could save you, you would be obliged, however reluctantly, to 
send and ask for some. Just so unwilling are sinners to apply to 
God for salvation, as a free gift; and they will not do it until 
they find themselves perishing, and that there is no other hope 
for thero/' 



EDWARD PAYSON. 23| 

" The young convert, in judging of the reality of his conver- 
sion, generally lays much stress upon having a great deal of 
joy ; and regards that as a very decisive proof that he is a dis- 
ciple of Christ. But this is one of the most fallacious proofs, 
and no dependence ought to be placed on it. It is not desira- 
ble, at first, to have full assurance of our salvation, for our love 
*is then weak ; and some degree of fear is likewise necessary to 
keep us near to Christ." 

" Suppose a child accidentally falls into a pit, and when 
some person comes to help him out, instead of thankfully ac- 
cepting the offer, he says, " No ; I will not have you to help me 
out ; I wish som.e one else to assist me." He is told by his 
father, that he shall not be assisted by any other person. Yet 
he still prefers remaining in the pit to accepting that person's 
offer. Does it not indicate strong aversion to him ? Yet it is 
precisely thus that the sinner treats Christ. He is exposed to 
danger, from which none but Christ can deliver him. Yet, 
rather than accept his assistance, he tries every other method 
again and again ; and when he finds all his efforts unsuccess- 
ful, he practically says, ' I had rather perish than be saved by 
Christ.' How justly might the Saviour take him at his word, 
and leave him to perish !" 

*^ The manner in which people obtain a false hope is gener- 
ally this : they first believe that God is reconciled to them, and 
then are reconciled to him on that account ; but if they thought 
that God was still displeased with, and determined to punish 
them, they would find their enmity to him revive. On the 
contrary, the Christian is reconciled because he sees the holi- 
ness of the law which he has broken, and God's justice in pun- 
ishing him ; he takes part with God against himself, cordially 
submits to him, and this when he expects condemnation. He 
is reconciled, because he is pleased with the character of God ; 
ihe false convert, because he hopes God is pleased vi^ith him." 

** It is morally impossible for God to pardon sinners without 
repentance. The moment he should do it, he would cease to 
be a perfectly holy being ; of course, all the songs of heaven 
would stop, and all the happiness of the universe be dried up. 
In his conduct, he is governed by a regard to the good of the 
whole. If a sovereign, out of false pity to criminals, should 
pardon them indiscriminately, he would thus destroy the hap- 
piness of all his faithful subjects, and introduce misery and 
confugion into his kingdom. But infinitely worse consequen- 



232 MEMOIR or 

ces would ensue, if God should neglect to punish those who 
transgress his law. His vast dominions would become one 
universal scene of anarchy and confusion ; happiness would be 
banished forever ; and misery, in its most aggravated forms, 
would prevail throughout the universe. Yet all this the sinner 
would think ought to be endured,, rather than that he should 
be obliged to repent of his sins.** 

'* Young converts generally suppose that it is their strong 
faith, which enables them to go to God, and ask to be forgiven, 
without much fear or hesitation ; but faith has less to do with 
it than they imagine. It is because they see little of their own 
sinfulness and God's hatred of sin. If they had clear views of 
these truths, they would find their weak faith very insufficient 
to induce them to go to Christ. Suppose a man, who had nev~ 
er seen fire, and who knew its effects only by report, should be 
told that at a certain distant period, he would be obliged to 
pass through a fire. He is told, also, that th^e is but one 
kind of garment that can protect him from its influence. A 
person gives him this robe, and although it appears to him very 
thin and flimsy, yet he feels very well satisfied with it before 
he has seen the fire. But when the destined time arrives, and 
he sees the fire blazing out and consuming every thing within 
its reach, his confidence fails. At first, a small degree of faith 
enables the Christian to go to God ; but as he advances in the 
knowledge of his own heart, and God's hatred of sin, his faith 
must also be increased, to enable him to approach his heavenly 
Father with confidence." 

" The young convert may be compared to a child, whom 
his father is leading over a rugged and uneven path. After 
proceeding for some lime without much difficulty, he forgets 
that it has been owing to his father's assistance — begins to 
think that he may now venture to walk by himself, and conse- 
quently falls. Humbled and dejected, he then feels his own 
weakness, and clings to his father for support. Soon, however, 
elated with his progress, he again forgets the kind hand which 
sustains him, fancies he needs no more assistance, and again 
falls. This process is repeated a thousand times in the course 
of the Christian's experience, till he learns, at length, that his 
own strength is perfect weakness, and that he must depend 
solely on his heavenly Father." 

" To assist you in estimating the criminality of sin, suppose 
that you had committed the first sin — ^that, before you were 



EDWARD PAYSON. "333 

born, such a thing had never been heard or thought of; but 
that all beings had united in loving and serving God, till, all 
at once, you started up, and began to disobey his commands. 
What a commotion would be excited ! Instantly the news 
would spread through heaven and earth, with inconceivable 
rapidity, and all ranks and orders of beings would join in ex- 
claiming, " It cannot be ! Where is the wretch, who would 
dare to disobey Jehovah V Suppose, then, that you were obli- 
ged to come forward and stand in the view of the assembled 
universe of myriads of sinless beings, who all regarded you 
with feelings of astonishment, horror, detestation, too strong for 
utterance. How inexpressibly dreadful would sin appear in 
this point of view ! And yet it is, in reality, just as dreadful 
and as criminal to sin now, as if no sin had ever been commit- 
ted by another.'' 

" The difference between true and false religion may be thus 
illustrated. Suppose a king visits two families of his subjects. 
The members of one think it great condescension in him to 
visit them ; they show him every possible mark of affection and 
respect, and they are filled with regret and unhappiness at his 
departure. The other family have no real love for him ; and, 
though self-interest prompts them to show him every external 
mark of respect, yet it is constrained, and they are glad when 
he departs. Now, if this king could read the heart, and saw 
that their services were insincere, he could not, of course, be 
pleased ; and the more assiduous they were in their attentions, 
if prompted wholly by self-interest, the more would he be dis- 
gusted. In the same manner, when God, by his Spirit, visits 
the true Christian, it fills him with joy and gladness ; his pres- 
ence is life ; and when he hides his face, nothing can afford 
pleasure or satisfaction. But when thoughts of God enter the 
mind of the sinner, he feels uneasy, and tries to get rid of them. 
He may, from selfish motives, affect to seek God ; but his 
heart is not in it, and he longs after the pleasures of the world. 
This is the way in which all awakened, yet impenitent sin- 
ners seek God ; and yet they are displeased because he will not 
accept such heartless services." 

" We are apt to feel as if, by our prayers, we laid God under 
obligation to save us ; as if our feeble, imperfect services were 
** profitable to him." Suppose a poor beggar should say of 
some rich nobleman, " He is under great obligations to me ;" 
and, when asked, "Why?" — should answer, " I have been 
everv day, for a great many years, and told him a long story 
20* 



234 MEMOIR OF 

of my wants, and asked him to help me." You can see how 
absurd this appears ; and yet it is precisely similar to our con- 
duct, except, indeed, that ours is much more absurd, because 
the disparity between God and us is infinitely greater than 
can exist between any two mortals." 

*' When sinners have been awakened to see their guilt and 
danger, and are invited to come to Christ and be saved, they 
frequently make such excuses as these — ** I cannot believe that 
the invitations of the gospel were intended for such sinners as 
I am ; I am afraid I do not feel right, and that Christ will not 
receive me." Suppose a table set in the street, and loaded 
with all kinds of food ; and that a herald is sent to make proc- 
lamation, that all who wish may come and partake freely. A 
poor man comes, and stands looking very wishfully at the table ; 
and, when he is asked why he does not eat, replies — " O, I am 
afraid the invitation is not meant for me : I am not fit." Again 
he is assured that the invitation is intended for all those who 
are hungry, and that no other qualification is necessary. Still 
he objects — ^' But I am afraid I am not hungry enough." In 
the same way do sinners deprive themselves, by their own fol- 
ly, of those blessings which are freely offered them by their 
Creator.'' 

" Suppose the rebellious subjects of a very wise and good 
king condemned to death. The king has a son, who, from 
compassion to these poor wretches, offers to make satisfaction 
to his father for their crimes, if he will pardon them. The 
king consents on one condition. He places his son at the door 
of his palace, and makes proclamation, that every one who 
comes to him for pardon, and is led in by his son, shall be for- 
given for his sake. One of the culprits comes, and, rejecting 
the proffered hand of the prince, rushes to the throne himself. 
Can this man expect mercy ? Thus God has provided a Me- 
diator, and commanded all to approach in his name ; and none 
can expect to be received, who do not come to God in this ap- 
pointed way." 

'* One mark of a true convert is, that he continues to repent 
of his sins, after he hopes that they are pardoned. All that 
the hypocrite desires, is salvation from punishment ; and when 
he thinks this end secured, he feels no concern respecting his 
sins. But the true Christian desires to be saved from sin ; and 
his hatred of sin, and repentance for it, increase in proportion 
a3 his assuranf e of heaven increases. Another mark is, that 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



235 



all disposition to make excuses is taken away. The repen- 
tant sinner feels willing to lie at God's feet, and confess his 
sins, without even wishing to excuse them." 

" It evinces more depravity not to repent of a sin, than it 
does to commit it at first. A good man may be hurried away 
by temptation to commit a sin, but he will invariably repent of 
it afterwards. To deny, as Peter did, is bad ; but not to weep 
bitterly as he did, when we have denied, is worse." 

" We may have the form of godliness without the power ; 
but it is impossible to have the power without the form." 

" The promises in the Bible to prayer are not made to one 
act, but to the continued habit, of prayer," 



836 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER XV. 

The same subject — Bible class — Pastoral visits — Social parties 
— Special and casual interviews — Charm of his conversation 
— Singular rencounter — Whence his competency — His publi- 
cations. 

If there is a spectacle on earth peculiarly animating to the 
thoughtful Christian, who waits and prays for the salvation of 
God, it is the faithful, affectionate pastor, with the Bible in his 
hand, surrounded by the " lambs of his flock," and leading 
them into " green pastures, and beside the still waters." It 
cannot be witnessed without a thrill of unusual delight, and 
anticipations of the most cheering character. There may be 
more of immediate personal enjoyment in the communion of 
saints, and in that foretaste of an eternal feast, which is grant- 
ed to the redeemed of the Lord, when, gathered around the 
sacramental board, they glory in the cross, and celebrate the 
love of Him who died on it, and their faith anticipates the 
hour when they *' shall see Him as he is," and come to the 
heavenly Zion, and commence their everlasting song. But the 
same principle, which causes " joy in heaven over one sinner 
that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, 
who need no repentance," is eminently a principle of benevo- 
lence, which is gratified with every prospect of increase to the 
** great multitude whom no man can number ;" and it is called 
into action, and operates with no ordinary effect, in view of a 
collection of youth, grouped around their beloved spiritual 
teacher, engaged in investigating the truths of the Bible, and 
ascertaining the duties which it enjoins. It is a sight full of 
hope and promise. It is not presumption to expect from it the 
choicest spiritual fruits which a minister is ever permitted to 
reap. It is among this class of his charge, that he may emi- 
nently '* sow in hope." The promises of God authorize him 
to expect extensive and glorious results. It was upon the 
youth that Mr, Payson expended some of his best exertions ; 
and these labors brought him a " harvest of golden sheaves." 

His heart was drawn towards the rising generation, and 
meditated various expedients for advancing their welfare. He 
doe? indeed, record and lament, among his deficiencies, the 



EDWARD PAYSON. g^ 

neglect of special efforts for their instruction and salvation. 
But, compared with what had been the ordinary standard of 
mii.isterial practice, he abounded in works of this description. 
Though, from the first, he did not fail to give them appropri- 
ate instruction, yet it was not till the latter years of his minis- 
try, that the interesting group, who periodically gathered 
around him, took the designation of Bible class; and at that 
time his manner underwent a slight modification. The sub- 
joined specimens were furnished by young persons, to whom 
they were blessed : — 

" A way-faring man stops at a tavern, and, to beguile the 
time of his stay there, looks round for some book. He sees, 
perhaps, a newspaper, an almanac, and the Bible ; but chooses 
to pore over either of the former, in preference to the Word 
of God, — thinking it hardly possible to be amused or interest- 
ed in that. Even a Christian will sometimes do thus. — This 
is as if a man should be introduced into an apartment, in one 
division of which were Jesus Christ and his apostles, and in 
the other the most dissolute and frivolous company ; and, on 
being invited by the Saviour to sit with them and enjoy their 
company, should refuse, and seat himself with the others. 
Would not this be a most gross insult to the Saviour ? and do 
you not equally undervalue and refuse his company, when you 
thus neglect and despise his holy Word, — through which he 
converses with you, and invites you near to himself, — and 
choose some foolish production instead of it V 

** God holds out to you, as it were, a thread, no stronger 
than a spider's web, and says — " Take hold of this thread ; I 
will increase its strength, day by day, until it becomes the line 
of salvation to you. — So it is with the little interest you feel in 
the Bible class. If you cherish this, if you reflect upon what 
you read and hear, and daily pray to be made wise by these 
instructions, God will increase your interest to its consumma- 
tion, till you become perfect ones in Christ Jesus. But if you 
lose your hold on this thread, you are lost.** 

The following paragraph illustrates his manner of stating 
the argument, and its application — the subject before the class 
being the evidence fi-om the light of nature, that there is a 
God :— 

" Suppose, my young fi-iends, that, in travelling through a 
wilderness, a spaci :us garden should burst upon your view^ in 



238 MEMOIR OF 

the midst of which is a splendid palace. Upon entering it, 
you perceive, in every apartment, proofs of the agency of some 
living person, though you see no one. Complicated machine- 
ry is moving, and various operations are carried on ; but still 
the agent, who produces these effects, is invisible. Would you 
be the less convinced that they were produced by some intelli- 
gent agent? And if you should be told, that the palace came 
there by chance, and that all the movements you witnessed 
were caused by no power whatever, you would regard him, 
who should tell you thus, either as a fool or a liar. Now, you 
have the same proof of the existence of God in his works, that 
you would have, in the case I have supposed, of the existence 
and presence of some invisible agent ; and it is just as unrea- 
sonable to doubt of his existence, as it would be to doubt 
whether the palace had been built by any person, or was only 
the work of chance. Suppose you were informed, by a writ- 
ing on the wall, that the palace was inhabited or haunted by 
spirits, who were constantly watching your conduct, and who 
had power to punish you, if it displeased them ; and that you 
were also informed, at the same time, of the course of conduct 
which it would be necessary to pursue, in order to obtain their 
approbation. How careful would you be to observe the rules, 
and how fearful of displeasing these powerful spirits ! And if 
you were further informed, that these were the spirits of your 
deceased parents, and that they were able to hear, if you ad- 
dressed them, — how delightful it would be to go and tell them 
of your wants and sorrows, and feel sure that they listened to 
you with sympathy and compassion ! — I tell you, my young 
friends, this world is haunted, if I may so express it, — haunt- 
ed by the Eternal Spirit. He has given you rules, by which 
to regulate your conduct, and is able to punish every deviation 
from them. And can you recollect that such a Being is con- 
stantly noticing your conduct, and still persist in disobeying 
his commands ? God is also your Heavenly Father ; and why 
can you not go to him, as such, with the same confidence 
which you would exercise in an earthly parent?'^ 

In explanation of the command to glorify God : — " It may 
seem strange and presumptuous, to speak of such poor, sinful, 
worthless beings as we are, as glorifying, or as capable of glo- 
rifying God. But the perfect Christian may be compared to a 
perfect mirror, which, though dark and opaque of itself, being 
placed before the sun, reflects his whole image, and may be 
said to increase his glory, by increasing and scattering his 
light. In this view we may regard heaven, where God is per- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 339 

fectly glorified \n his saints, as the firmament studded with ten 
thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands of 
mirrors, every one of them reflecting a perfect image of God, 
the Sun in the centre, and filling the universe w^ith the blaze 
of his glory." 

" Whenever you feel any thing vv^ithin you, my dear young 
fi-iends, urging you to attend to religion, it is the Spirit of 
God ; and if you refuse to comply, you will grieve him away. 
Suppose God should let down from heaven a number of very 
fine cords, and if any person should take hold of oiie, it would 
continue to grow larger and stronger, till at length he is drawn 
by it into heaven. Great care would be necessary, especially 
at first, not to break it ; for, if once broken, it might never be 
renewed. How careful should we expect the person to be, to 
whom one of these cords was extended, not to break it, to 
avoid all violence, and follow wherever it led him ! Just so 
anxiously ought you to cherish those good impressions, which 
are produced on your minds by the Spirit of God ; for if you 
once grieve him, he may never return." 

" Suppose a man builds a temple, with one seat in it very 
high and much ornamented ; and another very far below 
it. You ask him, for whom those seats are designed, and he 
replies — ** Why, the most elevated one is for me, and the one 
b€low it is for God." Now, in this case, you can all see the 
horrible absurdity and impiety of such conduct ; and yet each 
of you, who continues impenitent, is doing this. You have 
given yourselves the first place in your affections ; you have 
thought more of yourselves than of God, and have done more 
to please yourselves than to j^ease God ; in short, you have, 
in every thing, preferred yourselves before him." 

** Suppose there was a book, in which the whole of your 
life was recorded, each page of which contained the events of 
a day. At the beginning was written, " This is the life of a 
rational, immortal, accountable creature, placed in this world 
to prepare for eternity." Then commences a long catalogue 
of sins ; every page is successively covered with blots. Be- 
sides all these, there are the sins of omission, or duties neg- 
lected, .which swell to a still greater amount. There are more 
than fift^y commands binding upon you every moment ; such 
as, to repent, to believe, to love Christ, to watch, pray, &/C., 
none of which you perform. Thus you commit, to say the 
least, fifi:y sins in a moment. Add to these the first mention- 



240 MEMOIR OF 

ed class of transgressions, and, O, what an amount of guilt 
does the record of each day present ! At the bottom of every 
page, it is written — Did this person love God to-day ? No. 
Did he feel any gratitude for mercies ? No. Did he obey 
any of God's commands? No. Did he perform any part of 
the work for which he was created ? No." 

One of his most acceptable methods of communicating in- 
struction, and exciting a religious interest, was by visits to the 
families of his parishioners ; and, though he speaks of himself 
as living extempore, they will cheerfully give him credit for sys- 
tem in this branch of duty. It was a custom which he com- 
menced almost simultaneously with his ministry, to give notice 
from the pulpit, that the families in a particular district, or 
street, might expect him at a given time, in the course of the 
following week, and to request, that, if consistent with their 
engagements, they would all be at home ; he wished to see 
the family together. Accordingly, when he entered a house, 
he usually found all in readiness for his reception, and could 
proceed, without the loss of a moment, to deliver his message. 
The time he spent in a family did not usually exceed twenty 
or thirty minutes ; but it was completely filled up with relig- 
ious conversation and prayer. He could say much in a short 
time, and never failed to * divide a portion to every member' 
capable of receiving it. His ^' often infirmities" compelled 
him to relinquish this practice, and, for some years before his 
death, to limit his visits principally to houses of affliction. But 
these, in a parish comprising thousands of souls, were, neces- 
sarily, very numerous. 

He did not decline occasional invitations to evening parties, 
as he had given his people to understand, that he desired none 
to send for him, who did not wish him to come as a minis- 
ter of Christ. In this character, however, he was usually a 
welcome guest ; for, though he was invariably serious and 
faithful, he was neither abrupt nor forbidding in his manner 
of bringing forward religious topics. The divine Model he 
had so diligently studied, taught him how to avail himself of 
passing observations and occurrences to introduce and enforce 
man's obligation to attend to his highest interests. He always 
seized the right moment to bring forward and urge his Mas- 
ter's claims ; and when he had obtained the ground, he was 
certain not to yield it — indeed, none could wish to dispossess 
him. The subject which he so naturally and easily introduc- 
ed, he would expatiate upon, and illustrate, and hold the lis- 
tening company in fixed and solemn attention, from one to 



EDWARD PAYSON. 241 

three hours. Here were witnessed some of the most enrap- 
turing and powerful strains of his sacred eloquence, A visit- 
ing party, v/hose conversation was conducted by him, had all 
the advantage of a religious meeting in the article of instruct 
tion, and fell scarcely short in solemnity. To him it was of- 
ten as laborious as a public lecture, as it regards both prepara- 
tion and the exercise of speaking. He usually commenced 
and closed the interview by prayer. 

It is obvious how much such a manner of conducting social 
visits must tend to cultivate and cherish a religious spirit in 
society. Every one has observed, that, as they are often con- 
ducted, a single visit supplies matter for a month's gossip and 
scandal — evils which infect not only the individuals who were 
present, but their families and associates. But social inter- 
course, conducted on Christian principles, precludes these and 
similar evils, besides effecting positive good. The party sepa- 
rate with salutary impressions upon their minds, and carry 
more or less of a holy savor into their respective families. 
Religion becomes the subject of domestic conversation, which 
is rendered more intelligent and profitable by the very means 
which too frequently operate as a disqualification for the duty. 
In truth, no finite mind can trace all the happy consequences 
which flow from the habit of associating religion with all the 
intercourse and occurrences of life. 

That it was a leading object with him to introduce and ex 
tend this habit among his people, appears from almost every 
act of his official life. It accounts, in part, for his remarkable 
circumspection, and unfailing care, to set an example, in his 
own person, of doing all things to the glory of God. It was 
not without reference to this, probably, that he dedicated his 
own private dwelling to God ; or rather, that, when he did 
this, he called in some of his neighbors to participate in the 
solemnities; and it was not without its influence. He was 
called, in his turn, to officiate on similar occasions for them. 
A scene of this kind is still recollected with lively interest by 
the members of a numerous family. In his prayer, he antici- 
pated almost every possible circumstance in their future histo- 
ry with that reverent particularity, in which he was, perhaps, 
unrivalled ; and in such select, appropriate, and vivid expres- 
sions, as gave the very walls of the habitation a tongue that 
has not since ceased to speak. The thought, that it is a con- 
secrated house, is suited to check all tendencies to sinful levi- 
ty. One of the events anticipated in the prayer has already 
taken place ; and the children of the family, who now are all 
members of the visible church, could tell with what comforting 
21 



342 



MEMOIR OF 



aiid sustaining power it was brought home to their hearts, while 
surrounding the triumphant death-bed of an invaluable mother. 

From the most casual interview with him, the Christian 
could not separate without being instructed, humbled, and revi- 
ved ; nor the impenitent sinner, without a topic for reflection— 
perhaps an arrow in his heart. He exemplified one of his own 
remarks — " Our unconverted friends should feel that our whole 
deportment, and even our very silence, declares that we ear- 
nestly seek their salvation." 

A circumstance which gave to his company one of its most 
attractive charms, was his great condescension and affability, 
which entirely relieved the interlocutors of all embarrassment. 
No matter how awkwardly or defectively they expressed their 
difficulties, or proposed their queries — it was enough for him 
that he knew their meaning. He took no advantage of these 
defects, to mortify them and show off* his own superiority ; he 
never asked them to repeat and ^^ define precisely what they 
wanted," — a chilling practice with some affectedly wise and 
accurate men, which must effectually silence the weak and 
illiterate, and cut off* from them all hope of improvement : — 
he took this labor upon himself If he perceived them in 
danger of embarrassment, he would interpose and help them 
out. The most broken and imperfect expressions were suffi- 
cient to indicate to him the exact wants and feelings of the 
speaker. So truly was this the case, that his knowledge of 
others' thoughts would appear to a witness almost intuitive ; 
and he was equally prompt to apply the appropriate counsel. 
It was from ignorance of his power of perception, in this re- 
spect, that some have spoken of his inquiry meetings, during 
the latter half of his ministry, as more properly entitled to the 
appellation of lectures, or meetings for exhortation. But his 
remarks were as really predicated on the known states of mind 
in the assembly, as they ever are in any inquiry meeting, how- 
ever conducted. The truth is, besides watching the individ- 
ual characters of his charge for years, he had so thoroughly 
studied the moral and spiritual nature of man, in connexion 
with the Scriptures, that he could distinguish the symptoms 
which indicate the state of the heart, with as much readiness 
and certainty, as the most skilful physician can those of bod- 
ily disease. 

It was not to man in one attitude or situation only, that he 
could adapt himself, but to men in all situations, and of every 
variety of rank and character, and every degree of intellectual 
culture. A bereaved husband, in another town, to whom he 
was known only by report, but whose wife's obsequies he prov- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 243 

identially attended, inquired, some time after the funeral, if 
Mr. Payson had married a second wife, — inferring, from his 
prayer, that he knew, experimentally, the feelings inseparable 
from a state of widowhood. 

The following imperfectly described rencounter with a law- 
yer of Portland, who ranked among the first in the place for 
wealth, and was very fluent withal, will serve to show Mr. 
Payson's insight into character, and his power to mould it to 
what form he pleased, and, at the same time, prove, what 
might be confirmed by many other instances, that his con- 
quests were not confined to '*' weak women and children :'' — 

A lady, who was the common friend of Mrs. Payson and 
the lawyer's wife, was sojourning in the family of the latter. 
After the females of the respective families had interchanged 

several ** calls," Mrs. was desirous of receiving a formal 

visit from Mrs. Payson ; but, to effect this, Mr. Payson must 
also be invited ; and how to prevail with her husband to ten- 
der an invitation, was the great difficulty. He had been ac- 
customed to associate experimental religion with meanness, 
and, of course, felt or affected great contempt for Mr. Payson, 
as if it were impossible for a man of his religion to be also a 
man of talents. He knew, by report, something of Mr. Pay- 
son's practice on such occasions, and, dreading to have his 
house the scene of what appeared to him a gloomy interview, 
resisted his wife's proposal as long as he could and retain the 
character of a gentleman. When he gave his consent, it was 
with the positive determination that Mr. Payson should not 
converse on religion, nor ask a blessing over his food, nor offer 
a prayer in his house. He collected his forces, and made his 
preparation, in conformity with this purpose, and, when the 
appointed day arrived, received his guests very pleasantly, and 
entered, at once, into animated conversation, determined, by 
obtruding his own favorite topics, to forestall the divine. It 
was not long before the latter discovered his object, and sum- 
moned together his powers to defeat it. He plied them with 
that skill and address for which he was remarkable ; still, 
for some time, victory inclined to neither side, or to both al- 
ternately. — The lawyer, not long before, had returned from 
Washington city, where he had spent several weeks on busi- 
ness at the supreme court of the United States. Mr. Payson 
instituted some inquiries respecting sundry personages there, 
and, among others, the chaplain of the house of representa- 
tives. The counsellor had heard him perform the devotional 
services in that assembly. " How did you like him ?" — " Not 
al al ! ; he appeared to have more regard to those around him 



244 MEMOIR OF 

than he did t:> his Maker/' — Mr. Payson was very happy to 
see him recognise the distinction between praying to God and 
praying to be heard of men^ and let fall a series of weighty 
observations on prayer, passing into a strain of remark, which, 
without taking the form, had all the effect, on the lawyer's 
conscience, of a personal application. From a topic so un- 
welcome, he strove to divert the conversation, and, every few 
minutes, would start something as wide from it as the east is 
from the west. But, as often as he wandered,, his guest would 
dexterously, and without violence, bring him back ; and, as 
often as he was brought back, he would wander again. At 
length the trying moment which was to turn the scale arrived. 
The time for the evening repast had come ; a servant had en- 
tered with the tea and its accompaniments ; the master of the 
feast became unusually eloquent, resolved to engross the con- 
versation, to hear no question or reply, to allow no interval for 
*' grace," and to give no indication, by the eye, the hand, or 
the lips, that he expected or wished for such a service. Just 
as the distribution was on the very point of commencing, Mr. 
Payson interposed the question — '^ What writer has said the 
devil invented the fashion of carrying round tea, to prevent a 
blessing being asked ?" — Our host felt himself *' cornered ;" 
but, making a virtue of necessity, promptly replied — " I don't 
know what writer it is ; but, if you please, we v/ill foil the 
devil this time : — Will you ask a blessing, sir ?" — A blessing, 
of course, was asked, and he brooked, as well as he could, this 
first certain defeat, still resolved not to sustain another by the 
offering of thanks on closing the repast. But in this, too, he 
was disappointed. By some well-timed sentiment of his rever- 
end guest, he was brought into such a dilemma, that he could 
not, without absolute rudeness, decline asking him to return 
thanks. And thus he contested every inch of his ground, till 
the visit terminated. But, at every stage, the minister proved 
too much for the lawyer. He sustained his character as a 
minister of religion, and gained his point in every thing ; and 
that, too, with so admirable a tact, in a way so natural and 
unconstrained, and with such respectful deference to his host, 
that the latter could not be displeased, except with himself 
Mr. Payson not only acknowledged God on the reception of 
food, but read the Scriptures and prayed before separating from 
the family — and did it, too, at the request of the master, though 
this request was made, in every successive instance, in viola- 
tion of a fixed purpose. The chagrin of this disappointment, 
however, eventually became the occasion of his greatest joy. 
His mind was never entirely at ease till he found peace in 



EDWARD PAYSON. 245 

believing. Of.en did he revert, with devout thankfulness to 
God, to the visit which had occasioned his mortification, and 
ever after regarded, with more than common veneration and 
respect, the servant of God, whom he had once despised, and 
was glad to receive his ministrations in exchange for those on 
which he had formerly attended. 

His knowledge was not, as many have supposed, limited 
chiefly to theology. He was familiar, beyond what is com- 
mon, with the whole circle of the sciences- — so much so, that 
eminent men, of the different professions, who have incident- 
ally met with him, without knowing who he was, have, for 
the first half hour of their conversation, mistaken him for one 
of their own class. By physicians he has been thought a phy- 
sician, and a lawyer by lawyers ; and even the experienced 
senator has found him an invincible antagonist, on ground 
which his profession merely would not require him to assume. 

He never ceased to add to his stock of knowledge ; and his 
intelligent manner of conversing, on any topic whatever, would 
excite less of wonder, if the amount of his reading were known. 
He was a subscriber for Rees's Cyclopedia, and read the num- 
bers, generally throughout, as they successively issued from 
the press. He has been reputed a great novel reader ; but 
this report, as it would be naturally understood, misrepresents 
him. He expended little money or time on books of this class, 
after having turned his attention to the ministry. He knew 
something of every fictitious work which was introduced into 
the place ; but this knowledge was gained, perhaps, in an 
hour's time, in some retired corner of a book-store, which was 
kept by one of his parish. He had good reasons for knowing 
what kind of books circulated among his people, and especially 
if any of them were immoral in their tendency. If he read 
them on his own account, it was for mere relaxation, from 
which his vigorous and well-balanced mind derived strength 
and freshness for more solid pursuits. 

His own views of a proper course of reading to be pursued 
by a Christian were once given, extempore, in conversation, 
from which it will be seen, that novels have, at most, but a 
very dubious place : — 

*' It may be proper, and perhaps advantageous, for a Chris- 
tian to read, sparingly, works of taste. History he ought to 
read, and biography. Some knowledge of the philosophy of 
the mind is desirable, and may be obtained without very great 
expense of time. Church history, and a knowledge of ancient 
Eastern customs, will be very useful. Every kind of knowl- 
21 * 



246 MEMOIR OF 

edge which expands, strengthens, and adorns the mind, may 
be properly sought by the Christian, and ought to be sought 
by every Christian who has leisure and opportunity for read- 
ing. Our aim in seeking it should be to qualify ourselves to 
serve and glorify God more effectually, and to increase our 
power of being useful to our fellow-creatures. It is an old 
remark, that ^' knowledge is power." To increase our knowl- 
edge, then, is to increase our power of doing good. Highly 
as I prize such writers as Fenelon, Kempis, 6lc., I am con- 
vinced we may study them, not, perhaps, too much, but too 
exclusively. We may study them to the exclusion of other 
writers, whose works demand our attention ; and we may be 
so intent upon watching our feelings, as to forget to watch our 
words and actions. As some are content with a religion 
which is all body, so others may aim at a religion which is all 
soul ; but religion has a body, as well as a soul. If some 
think it sufficient to cleanse the outside of the cup, others may 
be so much occupied in cleansing it within, as to forget that 
it has an outside. Both deserve attention." 

' The press, which is, with some, their principal means of 
usefulness, v/as very little employed by Mr. Payson. He cher- 
ished a very low estimate of his own qualities as a writer, and 
could rarely be persuaded to submit a production for publica- 
tion. To a request, from a maternal association in Boston, 
for the copy of a sermon of a specified character, he replied — 
*' It would gratify me exceedingly to comply with the request. 
There is no honor,. no favor, that God can bestow, which I 
should prize more highly than that of doing good with my 
pen — of leaving something beliind me to speak for Christ when 
I am silent in dust. But this honor He, who distributes his 
gifts to every man as he will, does not see fit to grant me. 
My sermons will not bear perusal. I must resign the privilege 
of doing good with the pen to those who are more able." He 
certainly undervalued himself as a writer, or else the Christian 
public have widely erred in their estimation of the very few 
publications to which, during his life time, he consented. His 
discourse before the Bible Society of Maine, in 1814, was the 
first which he suffered to go to the press ; and the myriads of 
copies, which have been put in circulation, show in what man- 
ner it is appreciated. And yet, while correcting the press, he 
says of it — " It seemed so flat, I would have given any thing 
to recall it from the press." 

The success of this sermon is a good comment on the secret 
history of its origin : — 



EDWARD PAYSON. 247 

*^ May 2, 1814. Mond. Was so much exhausted, that I 
could scarcely move. Made a few visits. Tried to write ; 
but felt that I could as soon make a world as write a sermon 
for Thursday, without special divine assistance. 

** May 3. Was employed all the forenoon in preparing a 
sermon to be preached before the Bible Society. Felt that I 
was utterly incapable of it, and that if I was enabled to write 
one, the glory would not be mine. Prayed for assistance with 
a strong hope of obtaining it. Made a few visits. 

" May 4. Was employed upon my sermon, and was favor- 
ed with considerable assistance. Felt, I hope, some thankful- 
ness. But all my prayers for assistance, as well as my thank- 
fulness for it, are so mixed with selfishness, that they are 
worse than nothing. In the afternoon, attended the funeral 
of my oldest deacon. Wished to be suitably affected, and to 
see others so. Found a large concourse of people assem- 
bled ; made a few observations to them, but was much strait- 
ened. 

" May 5. Completed my sermon. Felt much dissatisfied 
with it. Prayed that it might be blessed to convey more to 
the minds of others than it did to my own. In the evening, 
preached ; a most oppressive air, and I spoke with difficul- 
ty. Concluded, fi-om observations made after meeting, that 
the sermon might have done some good ; if so, to God 
belongs all the glory, and to him may I be enabled to as- 
cribe it." 

''Portland, May 24, 1814. 

** Not long after you receive this, you may expect a letter in 
print ; that is to say, a discourse, which I have been compel- 
led, sadly against my will, to give into the hands of the printer. 
It is a discourse lately delivered before the Bible Society. 
Fifteen hundred copies were subscribed for, and a promise 
made, that the profits should go to purchase Bibles. Finding 
that the profits would be sufficient to purchase, at least, one 
hundred and fifty Bibles, I could not in conscience refuse. 
So, as soon as it comes from the press, which will be in a very 
few days, you will probably receive one. Do, my dear pa- 
rents, pray, pray earnestly for the poor orphan, that it may do 
good in the world. I have never been assisted to pray so 
much for any one sermon as this ; and that encouraged me to 
let it see the light. If it never does any other good, it will be 
the means of giving the Bible to many who would otherwise 
remain without it." 



248 MEMOIR OF 

A very excellent Thanksgiving Sermon was also given to 
the public, in 1820, for a similar reason, viz. a promise, 
which was amply fulfilled, that it should be made to produce 
something for missionary purposes. " 

His " Address to Seamen" was the next in order of his pub- 
lications. Men, affecting considerable pretensions to litera- 
ture, have been heard to speak of this production as a gross 
violation of good taste. But the author knew his object, and 
the way in which he could best accomplish it. He was not 
writing an oration for the alumni of a college, nor an article 
for a Quarterly Review, nor a '^ pretty discourse'' for a fash- 
ionable auditory, but an address to seamen. He had enjoyed 
more than common advantages for studying the character of 
this class of his fellow men, and understood their vocabulary 
almost as well as themselves — so well, that an experienced 
sea-captain was able to detect, in the whole address, but a sin- 
gle nautical term whose application involved a misconception 
of its use. As a model, it would be dangerous to imitate it — 
the attempt, indeed, would be ridiculous. But if it is not a 
good address, the public is strangely erroneous in its *' taste," 
and the effect which it produced, not only on its hearers, but 
on its readers, far and wide, is wholly unaccountable. Its 
popularity, from the very first, has been unrivalled by any 
thing of its kind. Copies of it have been multiplied to an ex- 
tent past computation. It has been translated into some of 
the languages of the old world, and pretty extensively circulat- 
ed on the coasts of the Mediterranean, from the press at Mal- 
ta. And, if report be true, some divines of the mother coun- 
try have not thought it disgraceful to claim a parental relation 
to it. Still it was no labored production ; it was happily con- 
ceived, but the author does not appear to have laid himself out 
to produce any thing very extraordinary. It was thrown off 
almost at a sitting, and at a time when he was " encompassed 
with infirmities," and heavily pressed by other labors. This 
is evident from his private record : — 

" Oct. 22, 23, 1821. Very unwell these two days. Could 
do nothing, though I have four sermons to prepare this week. 
Was, for a moment, tempted to murmur ; but the recollection 
of God's past kindness and faithfulness prevented me, and caus- 
ed faith to revive. 

*' Oct. 24. Was better to-day ; and wrote almost the whole 
of an address to seamen, to be delivered Sabbath evening. 



EDWARD PAYSON. g^g 

Felt some degree of gratitude, and resolved never to refuse to 
improve any opportunity of doing good because I seemed not 
to have time for it. 

" Oct, 25. Was furnished with a suitable text and sermon 
for this evening, without much labor. How graciously and 
wisely does God deal with me ! How much I ought to love 
and trust him ! Tried to preach my sermon to myself. Went 
to the house of God in much such a frame as I should wish to 
go ; but had no assistance in preachings and got through with 
difficulty. But felt satisfied that it should be so, and was ena- 
bled to rejoice in the Lord. 

*' Oct. 26. Was assisted to-day^ra writing, and had a pre- 
cious season in prayer. 

*' Oct. 27. Sick to-day — a violent head-ache, with some fe- 
ver. Did not see how I could complete my preparation for 
to-morrow, but felt satisfied and easy. Saw it was best I 
should have some rebuff; took courage from it, and hope that 
God meant to bless my labors to-morrow. In the evening, 
wrote considerable, notwithstanding my head-ache ; and, after 
I retired, was almost painfully happy, rejoicing in God with 
joy unspeakable and full of glory. 

** Oct, 28. Sab, Some better this morning. Finished a 
sermon for the afternoon, on increasing in the knowledge of 
God. Was almost insupportably happy, and could hardly re- 
frain from shouting aloud for joy. Was assisted in praying 
for others ; yet had no assistance in public prayer or preach- 
ing. In the evening, preached to seamen — an overflowing 
house ; aisles and pulpit stairs full, and hundreds went away 
who could not get in. Was enabled to go through tolerably. 
As soon as I came down, was beset so importunately for a 
copy for the press, that I could not refuse/* 

'* Portland, Nov. 25, 1821. 

" My Address to Seamen is published, and I shall send you 
one with this. They have printed nine thousand copies ; 
three thousand in the sermon form, and six thousand in the 
form of a tract. They mean to send them to every seaport 
in the United States. I know you will pray that a blessing 
may go with it. It produced a great effect upon seamen and 
others for a time ; but I do not know that any have been really 
awakened by it. One hundred and forty sailors applied, the 
next day, for Bibles, most of whom paid for them. I could 
not but wonder to see God work by it. I had only ten days* 
notice, and, during that time, had to prepare and preach sis 



250 MEMOIR OF 

sermons, besides the Address, and another sermon which I did 
not preach." 

''Dec. 26. 
" If I do not feel thankful for any other favor which God 
gives me, 1 do feel some gratitude when he enables me to do 
any thing which gives pleasure to the heart of my mother. 
If you were dead, one half the gratification I feel, when I pub- 
lish any thing which is well received, would be gone. I 
should also lose one half of my hopes, that any thing I publish 
will do good ; for I build my hopes very much on yf>ur prayers 
for a blessing. I suppose you or H. sent me the Keene paper, 
which contains my Address. It has been published in two 
other papers, and in a Baptist Magazine at Boston ; and I 

have just received a letter from Professor P.'s wife, at , in 

behalf of a number of ladies there, who wish to publish a large 
edition, in the form of a tract. I have requested our church 
to pray that a blessing may go with it, and I doubt not you 
will continue to pray. If it does any good, it will be owing to 
prayer." 

His other publication was a sermon, preached before the 
" Marine Bible Society of Boston," entitled '' The Oracles of 
God" — a much more labored production than either of his 
other published discourses, and yet, for some cause, it has 
been far less popular. — Besides these, he furnished one or two 
manuscript sermons for the National Preacher, which appear- 
ed soon aftsr his decease. 



EDWA K r> P AYSON. 251 



CHAPTER XVI. 

His exertions without the hounds of his parish — Influence on 
his ministerial associates ; in resuscitating and edifying oth* 
er churches — Visits ** The Spring s^^ — Effect of his example^ 
conversation^ and prayers on other visiters — Excursions in 
behalf of charitable societies — Translation of ministers — 
He is invited to Boston and New York. 

It is not easy to estimate the usefulness of a man in public 
life, whose numerous relations bring him into contact with his 
fellow men, in a great variety of circumstances. A minister 
of the gospel, especially at this day, is not an insulated 
individual, whose influence is limited by parochial bounds. 
His presence, counsel, example, prayers, give shape, tone, di- 
rection, energy, to public institutions for enlightening the hu- 
man species, alleviating its sufferings, and extending the em- 
pire of holiness. It is, indeed, no slight honor to be permit- 
ted to feed and build up a single branch of the church of God. 
To see the number of believers multiplied, and converted 
sinners joining themselves to the people of God, as the fruit of 
his labors, is an adequate reward for the pastor's most arduous 
toils, and for all the solicitude, with which his anxious bosom 
is afflicted. And yet the increase and edification of his own 
particular charge may be only a small part of the good which 
is to be traced, more or less directly, to his instrumentality. 
The many hundreds, to whom Mr. Payson's labors were bless- 
ed in the place of his residence, and whom it was his happi- 
ness to welcome to th3 church under his special supervision, 
are only a part, and may be found a small part, of the gems 
which will embellish his crown of rejoicing in the day of the 
Lord. To ascertain the whole amount of his usefulness, we 
must know the nature and degree of his influence upon his 
fellow laborers in the ministry, — the effect of his occasional la- 
bors in different and distant parts of the country, his agency 
in raising the tone of piety in all the churches which could be 
reached by his influence, the results of his powerful pleadings 
in behalf of religious and charitable enterprises, of his counsel 
in ecclesiastical concerns, and as one of the guardians of the 
principal «eminary of learning in Maine, — all, in short, that 



252 MEMOIR OP 

flowed from his conscientious and ever watchful regard, wher» 
ever he was, and with whomsoever he met, to the apostolical 
precept — " Consider one another, to provoke unto love and to 
good works." 

It is not intended here to give him a character at the ex- 
pense of his brethren, or to introduce their names as a foil to 
his excellences. Such comparisons are always invidious ; and, 
besides, where many are associated in the same cause, it is 
difficult, indeed impossible, to define the precise degree of in- 
fluence which ought to be ascribed to each ; though all, prob- 
ably, will admit Mr. Payson's claim to a large share ; and not 
a few, on reviewing the past, will see, in the exigencies of the 
churches in this region, and in the existing standard of minis- 
terial disinterestedness and zeal, causes of thankfulness to that 
gracious Providence which raised up and sent such a man 
among them. 

His presence in the ministerial association to which he be- 
longed, though often prevented by the frequent recurrence of 
his agonizing ** head-ache," and by duties at home, which he 
could not dispense with, was highly valued by a majority of 
his brethren. He was a strong advocate for devoting the first 
part of the time occupied by such meetings, to social prayer. 
Prayer was his own preparation for every duty ; and he felt it 
to be equally important, that it should be a common prepara- 
tion for a social duty. When on a council for the ordination 
of a minister, he was always on the watch for some interval of 
time, to be consecrated to united prayer, with particular refer- 
ence to the occasion and its consequences. In ministers' 
meetings, whether the immediate object were mutual edifica- 
tion, or a solution were requested of cases of conscience, and 
other difficulties which often arise in the discharge of the sa- 
cred office, or trying cases of discipline were presented for ad- 
visement, he was always ready to speak in his turn, and al- 
ways spoke to the purpose. A topic seldom passed him with- 
out fresh elucidation. Any proposition, which bore the least 
trace of a time-serving policy, or mere worldly wisdom, he 
would instantly discountenance. The writer has known him 
to do this, at once and efiectually, by a very few words of his 
own, pointed with one of Wither spoon's " Characteristics." 

He occasionally performed services for other parishes, of 
most auspicious bearing on the cause of religion ; services 
which thousands have regretted that his health and engage- 
ments would not permit him to repeat. The nature of the 
services alluded to will be seen by an extract : — 



EDWARD PAYSON. 253 

''Portland^ Jan, I^IBU. 

** Mr BEAR MOTHER; 

*' Not long after your return, I went to , a town about 

forty miles from this, on a week's missionary excursion. They 
are in a wretched state — have had no settled minister for seven 
years. The only minister they ever had proved an intempe- 
r2|.te man. He is still living in the place, and does all he can 
to prejudice the people against the gospel and all who preach 
it. — Before I proceed, I must take a little shame to myself, 
that God's goodness may appear more conspicuous. I com- 
menced my ride by going to G., to obtain Mr. H. to preach 
for me during my absence. The next morning, it stormed 
violently ; then I began to repent of my undertaking. How- 
ever, I was ashamed to go back ; so on I went in the storm. 
I was tolerably good-natured the first part of the day, but the 
storm and the road grew worse and worse. First it was all 
mire and clay, then nothing but hills and stones. I began to 
grow cross. Every bad jolt made me worse, till I felt as bad 
as Jonah did, and was ready to say, with him — ^ I do well to 
be angry.' Being in this frame, I concluded, of course, that 
I should do no good, wished myself at home a thousand times, 
and more than half resolved that I would never have any thing 
to do with a missionary tour again. However, I arrived safe, 
and began my labors, and soon found that I was not laboring 
alone. I cannot go into particulars. Suffice it to say, that in 
no place, not even in Portland, have I ever seen so much of 
God's power displayed, in the same space of time, as during 

the six days I spent in . I preached six times, and made 

between forty and fifty family visits. Many were awakened — 
almost all were solemn. One old man of seventy, among the 
wealthiest in the place, who has always been against doing 
any thing towards the settlement of a minister, was very deeply 
impressed, and has promised to give three hundred dollars to- 
wards a fund. Two others will give three hundred more each. 
— I was obliged to return home, on account of church fast and 
communion ; but they have sent for me to come up again, and 
next week, Providence permitting, I shall go. Thus was I 
shamed and confounded by God's goodness. But this is not 
all. I came home thoroughly drenched by the shower of di- 
vine influences, which began to fall at , and soon found 

that the cloud had followed me, and was beginning to pour 
itself down upon my people. Instead of a fast, we appointed 
a season of thanksgiving. A blessing seemed to follow it. I 
then invited the young men of the parish to come to my house, 
OP Sakbath evening, for religious purposes. The church 
22 



254 MEMOIR OF 

thought none would come. I expected twenty at most. The 
first evening, forty came ; the second, sixty ; and the third, 
seventy. This was the last Sabbath. Six stopped, after the 
rest were dismissed, to converse more particularly respecting 
divine things. About thirty persons are known to be seriously 
inquiring, and there is every appearance that the work is 
spreading. Meanwhile, I am so ashamed, so rejoiced, and so 
astonished, to see what God is doing, that I can scarcely get 
an hour's sleep." 

No account of his second visit has been preserved. The 
hopes, however, which had been excited by his first, were not 
disappointed. The change, which then commenced, prevail- 
ed, and was permanent. In the following spring, a candidate, 
who had completed his preparation for the ministry under Mr. 
Payson's instruction, visited the place, and, during his first 
week, ' found ten persons who entertained a hope, and heard 
of others ; and, in sixteen families whom he had visited, more 
or less were inquiring, and, in some instances, whole families. 
Religion was almost exclusively the topic of conversation, and 
the whole society appeared solemn. The subscriptions to a 
fund, for the support of a Calvinistic minister of the gospel, 
had amounted to three or four thousand dollars.' This young 
preacher soon became the established minister of the place, 
where he still remains, a useful laborer in the vineyard of 
Christ. Such were the results of one short missionary ex- 
cursion. 

About three years later, by particular request, he spent a 
week in another town, where some religious attention had 
commenced. It was a season of great solemnity. At his sug- 
gestion, the church assembled and renewed their covenant, 
whose bonds, for a long time, had been but little felt. Their 
pastor led the way, by acknowledging his deficiencies, and 
then, imploring forgiveness, and strength for time to come, 
renewed his engagements to the Lord and to his people. His 
wife followed his example, and was succeeded by the members 
of the church. During this visit, Mr. Payson preached thir- 
teen sermons, besides attending the less public meetings, and 
conversing with inquirers and the impenitent ; and yet he was 
scarcely sensible of fatigue till he left the spot. He *'was so 
happy, that he thought he might have exerted himself till he 
expired, without knowing that he needed rest." Of five per- 
sons, the fi-uits of this revival, who were propounded to the 
church at one time, four were above seventy years of age. 



EDWARD PAYSOiV. 355 

A service, not very dissimilar in kind, he once performed 
for several clmrches in his own neighborhood, as one of a 
committee of the Cumberland conference, much to their ac- 
ceptance, and, it is hoped, to their spiritual advantage. 

During his public life, Mr. Payson made several journeys to 
the springs at Ballston and Saratoga, for the recovery of his 
wasted health. The mixed characters, collected together at 
this place of fashionable resort, found him the judicious and 
earnest advocate of his Master's cause. Here he was no less 
bent on the ruling purpose of his heart, than when at home, 
among his own favorite flock. A visiter from another state, 
who took lodgings in the same house with himself, and pre- 
served some of his remarks and topics of discourse, testifies 
that it was Mr. Payson's usual practice, in the evening, to read 
the Scriptures at a stated hour, and offer prayer, which was 
attended by most of the family and boarders, and to spend a 
half hour, after prayer, in religious conversation with all who 
were disposed to remain. He always found many willing to 
hear, and the number continually increased. He observed to 
the visiter above alluded to, that the time spent at the springs 
would not appear so much like a blank, if he should be per- 
mitted to do any thing for the cause of Christ. This privilege 
was granted him ; for many left that boarding-house with deep 
religious impressions, produced through his instrumentality. 
One young man, who had resolved on finding new lodgings, 
because there was " so much praying" where he was, became 
the subject of deep conviction, the very evening he expressed 
such a determination. The gentleman, on whose authority 
these facts are stated, observes of his prayers — '* They contain 
a great deal of instruction, as well as devotion. He has a 
happy faculty of making his prayers 'preachP Yet, while his 
conversation and prayers were so impressive, and so full of in- 
struction to others, he mourns over his own dulness, as though 
'^ the waters had washed every idea out of his head, and every 
feeling out of his heart." 

The events alluded to in the foregoing paragraph, transpir- 
ed in 1815. Of the impression produced by a subsequent 
visit, some idea may be formed from the following letter, ad- 
dressed to the compiler : — 

^•' East Windsor, Conn., Nov. 2, 1829. 

^''On his way to Niagara, Dr. Payson called at my 

house, purposing to rest awhile, and try the benefit of the 
waters. I had heard much of this excellent man, but never 
saw him till this time ; and the impression he made on my 



256 MEMOIR OF 

mind, at this first interview, will not soon be forgotten. I was 
struck with the perfect simplicity and great dignity of his 
manners. His countenance was * care-worn,' and he had the 
appearance of one sinking under the load of human infirn.i- 
ties, and sighing for rest. 

* * * * 

** Speaking of his trials on one occasion, he observed to 
me — ' I have needed, all along, to be under the discipline of 
Heaven; for nothing else could have kept me humble, and 
saved me from perdition. I have ever been prone to depart 
from God, and have been kept only by a constant effort of his 
love. It seems to me, if God had not continually held the 
rod over me, and hedged up my way, I should have escaped 
from his hands, and been forever separated from his love.' — 1 
expected, in answer to my inquiries, to hear of the victories 
of his faith ; but he spoke only of the wonderful power of 
God, which had kept him, and of his love to one so unworthy 
and perverse. He spoke of his ^ fierce temptations,' and how 
he had been delivered by the mere mercy of God, and won- 
dered that God should concern himself about such a worm, 
and that he did not leave him to be torn and devoured by 
Satan. In all my conversations with this wonderful man, I 
never heard him utter a word that bordered on boasting, or 
savored of pride ; but he seemed to have a surprising sense 
of his own unworthiness, and of the amazing love of God in 
making himself known to him, and giving him a hope in his 
mercy. 

*' Among the virtues of our fiiend's character, that of hu- 
mility appeared eminently beautiful and lovely, and shone in 
his whole deportment. In prayer, his soul lay low before God. 
He frequently took part in family devotion, and here he excel- 
led all the men I ever heard. He carried us up, and placed 
us all in the divine presence ; and, when he spread forth his 
hands to God, heaven seemed to come down to earth, and the 
glory of the Lord shone around our tabernacle. He knew our 
wants, and he expressed them in language simple and affect- 
ing. He knew our miseries, and he told them all in such 
tones of tenderness and sympathy, as made us feel that a 
friend was pleading our cause. While this holy man has talk- 
ed with God, and seemed to be overshadowed with the divine 
glory, I have sometimes thought I could imagine what must 
have been the ecstasy of Peter, when surrounded with the 
glories of the transfiguration scene. At these solemn seasons, 
when our brother has been pouring out his heart inr deep con:- 
plaints of sin, and in fervent petitions for mercy, it has seemed 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



257 



as though the cloud of the divine presence covered the house- 
hold, and the divine majesty was very near us. 

" The only exercise Dr. Payson performed in public, while 
with us, was the baptism of my youngest child. Some, who 
heard his baptismal prayer, observed, afterwards, that the sub- 
ject of infant baptism had never been exhibited to them in so 
convincing and solemn a light, and that they had never been 
so thoroughly impressed with the obligations of religious pa- 
rents, and the covenant rights of their children. 

" In the bosom of a private family, Dr. Payson hoped to 
escape notice, and find rest from the vexations of company. 
But he could not be long concealed ; his retreat was soon dis- 
covered, and visiters thronged to see him. 

"Our domestic circle was often enlivened, by the presence 
and the conversation of Dr. Payson. The chudren were not 
unnoticed by him, but shared largely in his attentions; and he 
seemed to take delight in sharing the toils of the nursery! 
Often would he take the child from the arms of its mother, 
and carry it for hours together, and sing some little air to di-' 
vert it, — His conversations were, for the most part, of a reli- 
gious cast. He seemed inclined to dwell on melancholy sub- 
jects, and the strains of the mourning prophet suited him best. 
Yet now and then would he dwell on the sublime and anima- 
ting themes of religion ; and, when he began on an exalted 
strain, he was surpassingly eloquent and instructive. He would 
seize hold of some thought, and pursue it until it expanded 
and glowed under the splendor of his imagery. On one oc- 
casion, he spoke of the probable condition of the soul of the 
believer when dying. At this awful period, when gasping in 
the agonies of death, and apparently insensible to every thing 
around him, he supposed the world to be wholly shut out ; and 
in this condition, while friends stand around, and tremble to 
think of the unknown agonies he may be enduring, he suppo- 
ses the light of God's countenance is pouring in upon the soul, 
rendering him insensible to all his pains, and the soul is strug- 
gling and panting to escape from the crumbling tenement, and 
be at rest in the bosom of God. — I can only give you the idea ; 
it is impossible to reach his description. He seemed to dwell 
in a spiritual world, and to be most conversant with spiritual 
objects. This he manifested " by pureness, by knowledge, by 
love unfeigned." He talked about death as we would talk 
about going from one place to another ; and, if any might 
adopt the language of Watts, much more might he : — 

^' Receive my clay, thou treasurer of death j 
I will no more demand my tongue 

22* 



258 MEMOIR OF 

Till the gross org^n, well refined, 

Shall trace the boundless flights of an unfettered mind, 

And raise an equal song-/' 

" I add no more ; only that the visit of Dr. Payson at my 
house left this impression upon our minds — not to he forgetful 
to entertain strangers ; for thereby some have entertained An- 
gels unawares. 

*' Respectfully yours, 

'* Samuel W. Whelpley.'^ 

A short passage from a letter of condolence, addressed to 
Mrs. Payson by a friend in Connecticut, will probably express 
the common sentiment of the many thousands, who have lis- 
tened to him whether for a few moments only or for hours : — 

*^ I remember with most deep and interesting impression, 
my last interview with your beloved and ever-to-be-lamented 
husband. It was during a delightful ride of five or six miles, 
on the borders of Farmingrton river. Never had I heard such 
discourse from the lips of man — never had such an interview 
with a mortal. Even then he seemed like a pure spirit from 
another world. Such words of wisdom ! and such heavenly 
affections ! I cannot efface the impression from my mind.'' 

The compiler has taken much pains to procure from com- 
panions of his journeys some of the striking observations, which 
were drawn from him by the natural scenery that he witnessed, 
by the various characters with whom he met, and the circum- 
stances in which, at different times, he found himself But 
his attempts, even with those from whom he had the greatest 
reason to expect full and satisfactory replies, have been utterly 
fruitless. The geneTal impression produced by his occasional 
conversation, has been very strong and deep, and the effect 
powerful and abiding ; but no one has ventured to report par- 
ticulars. The words, and, of course, the precise sentiments, 
with numerous circumstances which rendered them peculiarly 
seasonable, '^ like apples of gold in pictures of silver,'' are 
lost beyond recovery, while their effect remains. The impulse 
which he gave to other minds still keeps them in action, and 
is still transmitted from mind to mind, while it is impossible 
for them to tell hoiv this impulse was first imparted. The 
pleasure and the benefit remain, though the exciting cause 
has disappeared. So absorbed have persons been with the 
effect, as to lose all distinct recollection of the means employed 
in producing it. — This corresponds with the writer's experi- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 259 

ence. At the first visit which he ever received from Dr. Pay* 
son, some allusion was made to the opinion which prevails 
among Christians in common life, that ministers are in a situa- 
tion peculiarly favorable to religious enjoyment, because their 
profession leads them to be incessantly conversant with divine 
truth. '* This,'' said Mr. Payson, '' is just as if a hungry man, 
on entering the kitchen of a large victualling-house, and inhal- 
ing the savory odor of the various dishes of rich food, hot from 
the fire and the oven, with which the busy laborers were loading 
the tables, should exclaim — ' What a blessed time these cooks 
have !' " During the interview, he uttered enough to make a 
valuable pamphlet ; and yet this one comparison is all that can 
be related with even tolerable justice to him. 

He had repeated applications from the directors of the prin- 
cipal charitable societies of the country to take journeys and 
collect funds for their respective operations. Of the first of 
these applications he says — '* I dislike begging, and therefore 
thought I must go ; but the hopes of a revival pulled me back." 
He, however, soon after, *^ made a beginning by visiting a few 
towns, the result of which did not encourage him to proceed. 
He was brought into circumstances which rendered it neces- 
sary to preach ten times in eight days ;" which, added to the 
fatigue of riding a great distance, proved too much for his 
strength, and compelled him to relinquish the undertaking. 

In the early part of 1819, he made a tour, confined chiefly 
to Essex county, Mass., in behalf of the American Education 
Society.* His success in collecting money, though as great, 
probably, as his employers had any reason to anticipate, did 
not equal his own wishes. It was no slight trial, * after preach- 
ing till he was half dead, to find only a few dollars contributed, 
and then be obliged to retire, and lie awake, brooding over his 
ill success half the night.' His actual receipts, however, con^ 
stituted but a small part of the advantage which the society 

* A little manuscript volume has fallen into my hands, in which one of Mr. 
Payson's hearers entered his texts from time to time, together with some of the 
leading topics of his discourses. A short extract will show the appositeness of 
his subjects to the circumstances of himself and his congregation, and enable the 
reader to imagine the additional force and impressiveness which his instructions 
hence derived : — 

^' Jan. 24, 1819. In the afternoon, Mr. Payson, preparatory to leaving town 
on a mission to the counties of Essex and Middlesex, in the service of the Amer- 
ican Etlucation Society, preached from these words : — 

• Now I beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the 
love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God for me, 
that I may be delivered from them that do not believe in Judea ; and that my 
service which I have for Jerusalem, may be accepted of the saints ; that I may 
come to you with joy by the will of God, and may with you be refreshed.' " — 
Rom. XV. 30—32. 



260 MEMOIR OF 

realized as the consequence of his excursion. By such an ad- 
vocate, its objects and its claims were favorably made known 
to the community ; auxiliary societies were formed, and prom- 
ises obtained from individuals of large donations. The amount 
of good which he accomplished on this journey cannot be es- 
timated by dollars and cents. To obtain money, was with 
him, now and at all times, a very subordinate object. It was 
his great desire to exert an influence favorable to the spiritual 
welfare of ministers and churches whom he visited. ** I la- 
bored as directly as I dared, to persuade all the ministers where 
I went to expect a revival, and talked to them in my way about 
Christ." His unusual manner of conversing attracted atten- 
tion, and opened to his brethren new ways of awakening inter- 
est in the subject of Christ, and his salvation. His prayers 
produced the same impression which they always had on stran- 
gers. An aged minister noticed the same quality in his pray- 
ers, as did the lay visiter at the Springs. He remarked, after 
hearing them, that prayer might be made as instructive as 
preaching ; and wrote to a son in the ministry, to have Mr. 
Payson preach for him, by all means, and especially io pray, 

Mr. Payson's excursions, from time to time, for the benefit 
of his health, were the means of making him personally known 
in several of our southern cities, as well as in New England 
and New York, and, consequently, of extending that pious 
influence which he ever exerted to the farthest boundaries of 
our land. 

There is nothing more true, in theory, than that a minister 
is the common property of the church at large, rather than of 
any particular division of the church, and that she has a right 
to his services in that place, which will afford the widest scope 
for the effectual and useful employment of his peculiar talents 
and qualifications. But various causes render the principle 
one of most difficult application. Some unhappy consequen- 
ces, perhaps, never fail to follow the transfer of a minister from 
one church to another ; and no slight probability of increased 
usefiilness can justify such removal. In order that such a 
change may bring any gain to the church general, a minister 
must do much more good in his new situation, than he did in 
that which he left ; for it will require much to balance the cer- 
tain evils, inseparable from his removal. When a pastor is es- 
tablished in the affections and confidence of his flock, and is 
laboring with more than ordinary zeal and success, any inter- 
ference fron\ abroad must be regarded as a hazardous experi- 
ment. There may be much of selfishness in the refusal of a 
people to g'YO up their minister ; but certainly not more than 



EDWARD PAYSON. 26l 

tliere is in those who wish to obtain his services at their ex- 
pense, and by whose solicitations their feelings are put to the 
trial. Else, why does the choice of rich churches never fall 
upon any but ministers of established popularity, or distinguish- 
ed for their success ; while many others, equal, perhaps supe- 
rior, in moral and intellectual worth, are placed over churches 
by whom their merits are not appreciated, and who only need 
a change of situation to take a rank among the most useful of 
Christ's ministers ? The *' call" of a church to the pastor of a 
sister church may be the call of God ; and it may be the re- 
sult of caprice, of partiality, of pride, or other selfish passions. 
Those calls are most entitled to consideration, which these 
feelings have the least concern in producing. The guardians 
of our public seminaries may be supposed, from their situation^ 
to have no private feelings or partialities to gratify by their ap- 
pointments. In ordinary cases, they can have little induce- 
ment to act for any other than the general good ; and that will 
be a dark day for our land, when these institutions, the nur- 
series of learning and religion, whence her future pillars are to 
be obtained, shall be denied their claim to the most valuable 
men whom the church can furnish. 

Much disquiet is often produced in a parish by the reported 
intentions and informal proposals of a society abroad, to ^* get 
away their minister," even when this imprudent agitation of 
the subject does not issue in a formal invitation. The second 
church in Portland had much experience of this species of tri- 
al. When Park-street Church, in Boston, was left vacant by 
the removal of Dr. Griffin, Mr. Payson's charge had unpleas- 
ant apprehensions of losing their beloved pastor. It is in allu- 
sion to this time that he says in a letter — " We have been kept in 
a fever here, all this winter, by perpetual alarms from Boston > 
Because I do not refuse before I am asked, and exclaim loudly 
against going, some of my people suspect I wish to go. ... I 
wish " Boston folks" would be content with being " full of no- 
tions" themselves, and not fill other people^s heads with them." 
— It must greatly endear his memory to his surviving flock, to 
learn from another letter what were his secret feelings in rela- 
tion to this matter : — " My people — I never knew before how 
much they loved me. I am amazed to see what an interest 
God has given me in the affeotions of his people, and even of 
sinners: It would seem like tearing off limbs to leave them. 
Indeed, I see not how it is possible, humanly speaking, to get 
away from them. I have not yet been put to the trial. No 
application has yet been made from B., though much has been 
said abou it. It is very doubtful whether any will be made. 



262 MEMOIR OF 

I feel very easy about it myself, but tbe church are in great 
tribulation. Ever since it was first talked of, I have taken 
special care to avoid every thing which might tend, either di- 
rectly or indirectly, to bring it about. If it comes, it shall be 
none of my seeking.*' 

Several years after this, he did, with the full consent of his 
people, take up a temporary residence in Boston, and, during 
the few weeks which he spent there, preached to crowded as- 
semblies, and not without apparent effect. Though the work 
which his friends there laid out for him was too much for his 
strength, he was wearied with solicitations and entreaties to 
visit and preach in the neighboring towns ; so anxious were 
those who had once heard him, to secure for their friends and 
neighbors a participation in the same privilege : and so confi- 
dent were their hopes that he would be the instrument of awak- 
ening a general concern for the soul, wherever he should ad- 
dress to men the message with which he was intrusted. 

In 1825, at the organization of the new church in Hanover- 
street, he was invited to take the pastoral charge of it. He 
referred the call to his own church, who decided, unanimously, 
that he ought not to accept it — a decision to which he cheer- 
fully acceded. 

In January, 1826, he received a unanimous call from the 
church in Cedar-street, New York, to become their pastor. 
This call he promptly, fully, and unequivocally declined. The 
motives by which he was actuated, may be seen from a letter 
to his mother, written a few days afterwards. All classes gave 
him full credit for disinterestedness in his conduct on this oc- 
casion. 

''Portland, Jan. 25, 1826. 
" My dear Mother, 

" Before you receive this, you will, probably, have heard that 
I have returned a negative answer to the invitation from the 
Cedar-street church. After refusing to accept the call from 
Boston, I could not do otherwise. If I had gone to either 
place, I must have gone to Boston ; for I think the prospect of 
usefulness there is greater, all things considered, than at New 
York. Besides, I never would consent to become the pastor 
of any church, whose members had not heard me preach, and 
become personally acquainted with me. I have not the least 
doubt, that, had I complied with the Cedar-street invitation, 
the first emotions of the church and society, on hearing me, 
would have been those of bitter disappointment and regret. It 
is true that a removal to New York, were I fit for the place, 
would, on many accounts, have been very gratifying. I felt 



EDWARD PAYSON. ggj 

no small inclination to go. I should like exceedingly to be 
near you and my other relations. I should also like a milder 
climate than this, and I have little doubt that it would be ben- 
eficial to my health. But a removal would be death to my 
reputation in this part of the country ; I mean my Christian 
reputation ; and, what is far worse, it would bring great re- 
proach upon religion. At present, my worst enemies, and the 
worst enemies of religion, seem disposed to allow that I am 
sincere, upright, and uninfluenced by those motives which 
govern worldly-minded men. But had I gone to Boston, and, 
much more, should I now go to New York, they would at 
once triumphantly exclaim, *' Ah ! they are all alike ; all gov- 
erned by worldly motives ; they preach against the love of 
money, and the love of applause, but they will gratify either 
of those passions, when a fair opportunity offers." Now, I had 
much rather die, than give them an occasion thus to speak re- 
proachfully. It would be overthrowing all which I have been 
laboring to build up. Indeed, I can see no reason why God 
should suffer these repeated invitations to be sent to me, un- 
less it be to give me an opportunity to show the world that all 
ministers are not actuated by mercenary or ambitious views. 
I have already some reason to believe, that my refusal to ac- 
cept the two calls has done more to convince the enemies of 
religion, that there is a reality in it, than a thousand sermons 
would have done. However this may be, I have done what I 
thought to be duty. If I ever felt desirous to know the will 
of God, and willing to obey it, it has been in reference to 
these two cases. Could I have had reason to believe, that it 
was his will, I would very gladly have gone either to Boston 
or to New York. But, at present, I believe that it was his 
will that I should remain where I am. Not that I am of any 
use here ; but though I can do no good, I would, if possible, 
avoid doing harm." 

But little more than a month elapsed before the invitation 
of the Cedar-street church was repeated. Some changes in 
his circumstances led him to deliberate, for a time, whether 
this second invitation might not be the call of Providence. 
He considered the obstacles, which had opposed his removal, 
as diminished. The church in Hanover-street — supposing 
that he might possibly be deterred from complying with this in- 
vitation, by the fact that he had so recently declined a call 
from them — passed a resolve, with a view to remove any diffi- 
culties which that circumstance might have thrown in his 
way, and wrote a letter, urging him to act just as he should 



264 MEMOIR OF 

if he had never received an invitation from them. This 
amounted very nearly to the expression of an opinion, that it 
M^as his duty to go. He was evidently much perplexed. On 
the one hand, he feared " doing wrong, and offending God, by 
running before he was sent." On the other hand, the cir- 
cumstances attending his reception of the call, * induced him 
to believe that it might, possibly, be the call of God ; and he 
could not again decline it, until he had taken time for prayer 
and deliberation.' ** I have ample reason," he writes to the 
commissioners who tendered the invitation, ** to believe that 
God placed me in my present situation ; and I must, there- 
fore, be convinced that he calls me away, before I can consent 
to leave it. That he does call me away, I am not yet con- 
vinced ; though I admit it to be possible." 

After having been long agitated by the perplexing ques- 
tion, it was, at length, referred to a council, mutually chosen 
by himself and his church. To the council it proved almost 
as tedious and trying as it had to him. They were reluctant 
to decide against his removal, thinking it possible, that a 
change of climate and situation, together with the diminished 
necessity of study, might recruit the wasted energies of his 
body, and prolong, for the benefit of the church, his most val- 
uable and useful life. On the other hand, they found difficul- 
ties in the way of recommending his removal, which they were 
not able to surmount, the principal of which was his want of a 
full and decided conviction of personal duty in the case. 
They could, therefore, only advise, that, if such should be his 
conviction, and he should make it known to his church, they 
would consent to part with him. 

To this state his mind had nearly approached, when its prog- 
ress towards conviction was arrested, and its purpose chang- 
ed by increased illness. Symptoms of pulmonary affection, 
added to his other maladies, excited apprehensions that his 
labors on earth were nearly terminated — apprehensions which, 
alas ! proved to be but too well founded. In May following, 
by the advice of friends and physicians, he tried very thorough- 
ly the experiment of riding on horseback, by making a jour- 
ney through the interior of Maine, New Hampshire, Massa- 
chusetts, and Connecticut, to New York city, and thence to 
the Springs, where his mind was disturbed by a third applica- 
tion to take the charge of Cedar-street church, accompanied 
with most pressing letters and messages from clergymen and 
others. Though this was declined without much hesitation, 
yet, in the excitable state of his nerves, and his universal 
weakness of body, it was injurious to his welfare, and, combin- 



lEDWARD PAYSON. ggg 

ed with olher causes, prevented his deriving any benefit from 
his journey and an absence of two months. 

*' The peculiar trials of mind/' writes the Rev. Mr. Whelp- 
.ey, with whom he took lodgings, — " The peculiar trials of 
mind he had passed through, in consequence of the invita- 
tions he received to New York and Boston, well nigh broke 
him down, as he expressed it, and greatly aggravated his 
complaints and sufferings ; and he had hoped to experience 
no more trouble from this quarter. But no sooner was it 
known in New York, that he was at the Springs, than fresh 
overtures were sent to him. — * I wonder,' said he, ' that this 
people will thus pursue a dying man. I cannot help them or 
myself — I have no doubt, from various expressions of his, that 
the great efforts made to effect his translation to a new field of 
labor proved too much for his weak frame, and hastened his 
dissolution." 

The language ascribed to Mr. Pay son, in the preceding ex- 
tract, is descriptive of his own weakness, and expresses his set- 
tled conviction of the desperate condition of his health, and 
not any intended censure of the people who were so persevef- 
ingly solicitous to secure his services. He could fully appreci- 
ate their motives. But they knew not how delicate and sus- 
ceptible were his feelings ; nor di(;l they know how nearly ex- 
hausted in him were the springs of life. Doubtless their wish- 
es had so far affected their judgment, as to create the confi- 
dent expectation, that a removal to a new field of action 
would be the means of restoring and establishing his health. 
But it was already gone past recovery. 

That he was held in as high estimation by the great and 
good, as by Christians in the ordinary walks of life, is obvious 
from the fact, that he was, in 1821, requested by persons hav- 
ing some control in the appointment, to say whether he would 
accept a professorship in the Theological Seminary at Ando- 
ver, if elected to the office. But he refused '' at once, and 
positively, on the score of not possessing the requisite quali- 
fications. Had I been suitably qualified, I am not certain 
that I should not have thought it my duty to go." 

23 



266 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER XVII. 
Letters to persons in various circumstances and states of mind. 

Though Mr. Payson was eminently felicitous in adapting 
his public discourses to the wants and characters of a promis- 
cuous assembly, he was, if possible, still more so, in suiting 
his counsels, instructions, and appeals, to the cases of individu- 
als. But these dictates of his sanctified understanding and 
ardently affectionate heart, are mostly lost ; and their place can 
be supplied only by a selection from his letters, written to per- 
sons variously situated and affected, — which, though both in- 
teresting and instructive, are far inferior in imagery, apposite- 
ness, and effect, to his viva voce instructions. 

To his mother under affliction of spirit : — 

"My DEAREST MoTHERp 

** Never did I more ardently wish to impart consolation, and 
never did I feel so utterly powerless to do it. You say your- 
self, that neither reason nor religion can restrain your tor- 
menting imagination. What encouragement, then, have I to 
attempt to comfort you under the evils it occasions ? I wish I 
could communicate to you the feelings which have rendered 
me happy for some weeks past. I will mention the texts 
which occasioned them ; texts on which I have preached late- 
ly. Perhaps the great Comforter may apply them to you. If 
so, you will little need any consolation which I can give. 
The first is Isaiah xxvi, 20. The time of our continuance on 
earth is but a moment ; nay, it is but a little moment. Sup- 
pose, then, the worst. Suppose tliat all the evils which imagi- 
nation can paint should come upon you. They will endure 
only for a little moment; and, while this little moment is pass- 
ing away, you may run and hide in the chambers of protec- 
tion, which God has provided for his people, till the mansions 
preparing for them above are ready for their reception. O, 
then, my dear mother, glory in these afflictions, which endure 
but for a moment, a little moment. O, how near, how very 
near, is eternity. It is even at the door. 

"New-year's Sabbath, I preached on this text, "As the 
Lord liveth, there is but a step between me and death." One 



EDWARD PAYSON. 257 

inference was, there is but a step between Christians and heav- 
en. So it has seemed to me almost ever since. Another text, 
which I have preached on lately, and which has been much 
blessed to me, is Rev. xxi. 23. *' And the city had no need 
of the sun," 6lc. O, how unutterably glorious did heaven ap- 
pear ! It is glor^ : it is a weight of glory ; an exceeding tceight 
of glory ; a/ar inore exceeding weight of glory ; ^far more ex- 
ceeding and eternal weight of glory. O, how shall we bear such 
a weight of glory as this ! How shall we wait with patience till 
we arrive at it ! O, it seems too much ; too boundless, too over- 
whelming to think of Come afflictions ; come troubles ; come 
trials, temptations, distresses of every kind and degree ; make 
our path through life as painful, as wearisome as you can ; still, 
if heaven is at the end of it, we will smile at all you can do. 
My dear mother, break away ; O that God would enable you 
to break away from all your cares and sorrows, and fly, rise, 
soar up to the New Jerusalem. See its diamond walls, its 
golden streets, its pearly gates, its shining inhabitants, all in a 
blaze with reflected light and glory, the light of God, the glory 
of the Lamb ! Say with David, Toward this city I will go in 
the strength of the Lord God ; I will make mention of thy 
righteousness, even of thine only. My mother, what a righ- 
teousness is this ? The righteousness of God ! A righteous- 
ness as much better than that of Adam, nay, than that of 
angels, as God is better than his creatures. Since, then, my 
dear mother, you have such a heaven before you ; such a 
righteousness to entitle you to heaven ; and such blessed 
chambers to hide in, during the little moment which separates 
you from heaven, — dry up your tears, banish your anxieties, 
leave sorrow and sighing to those who have no such blessings 
in store or reversion, and sing, sing, as Noah sat secure in the 
ark, and sang ' the grace that steered him through.' 



" I would urge father to be more careful of himself, if I 
thought it would do any good ; but it will not. The nearer he 
gets to his sun, his centre, the end of his course, the faster he 
will fly, and you cannot stop him. Catch hold of him, and fly 
with him, and I will come panting afl^er as fast as I can." 

To a. kinsman, in an important crisis of his religious expe- 
rience : — 

*' In your present situation, and for some time to 



eome, your greatest difficulty will be, to maintain the dailj 



2^ MEMOIR OF 

performance of closet duties. On your maintaining that part, 
the fate of the whole battle will turn. This your great adver- 
sary well knows. He knows, that if he can beat you out of 
the closet, he shall have you in his own power. You will be 
in the situation of an army cut off from supplies and reenforce- 
ments, and will be obliged either to capitulate, or to surrender 
at discretion. Pie will, therefore, leave no means untried to 
drive or draw you from the closet. And it will be hard work 
to maintain that post against him and your own heart. Some- 
times he will probably assail you with more violence, when 
you attempt to read or pray, than at any other time ; and thus 
try to persuade you that prayer is rather injurious than benefi- 
cial. At other times, he will withdraw, and lie quiet, lest, if he 
should distress you with his temptation, you might be driven 
to the throne of grace for help. If he can prevail upon us to 
be careless and stupid, he will rarely distress us. He will not 
disturb a false peace, because it is a peace of which he is the 
author. But if he cannot succeed in lulling us asleep, he will 
do all in his power to distress us. And when he is permitted 
to do this, and the Holy Spirit withdraws his sensible aid and 
consolations ; when, though we cry and shout, God seems to 
shut out our prayers, — it is by no means easy to be constant in 
secret duties. Indeed, it is always most difficult to attend to 
them when they are most necessary. But never mind. Your 
Lord and Master is looking on. He notices, he accepts, and 
he will reward every struggle. Besides, in the Christian war- 
fare, to maintain the conflict, is to gain the victory. The 
promise is made to him that endures to the end. The object 
of our spiritual adversaries, then, is to prevent us from endur- 
ing to the end. If they fail of effecting this object, they are 
defeated. Every day in which you are preserved from going 
back, they sustain a defeat. And if, by praying yesterday, 
you gained strength enough to pray to-day ; and if, by praying 
to-day, you gain strength enough to pray again to-morrow, you 
have cause for thankfulness. If the food which you take eve- 
ry day nourishes you for one day, you are satisfied. You do 
not expect that the food you ate yesterday will nourish you to- 
day. Do not complain, then, if you find it necessary to ask 
every day for fresh supplies of spiritual nourishm.ent ; and do 
not think your prayers are unanswered, so long as you are 
enabled to struggle on, even though if should be with pain 
and difficulty. Every day I see more clearly how great a 
mercy it is to be kept from open sin and from complete apos- 
tasy. If you are thus kept, be thankfiil for it.'* 



EDWARD PAYSON. 269 

To a gentleman in a neighboring state, whose hospitality 
he had enjoyed while on a journey for his health, and who 
has since yielded to the expostulations of his revered friend, 
and is now numbered with the people of God : — 

" The unvarying kindness and hospitality, with which I 
was treated while at your house, has left an impression upon 
my mind, and laid me under obligations, which, I trust, will 
never be forgotten. In addition to this, the apparent interest 
with which you listened to remarks on religious subjects, and 
your request that I would write to you and pray for you, have 
led me to feel a more than ordinary concern for your future 
welfare. It is this which induces me to write — yet I must 
confess that I write with tremblinof. The numerous instances 
in which I have seen religious impressions fade away, lead 
me to fear that, ere this, the subject may have ceased to ap- 
pear interesting to you, and that you will not thank me for 
troubling you with this letter. But I will, for the present, 
hope better things, and, under the influence of such a hope, 
will venture to write. Yet what shall I say, ignorant as I am 
of the present state of your mind, and, of course, equally ig- 
norant of what it requires ? I have been imploring that om- 
niscient Being, who is perfectly acquainted with it, to guide 
my pen, and lead me to write something which may prove ' a 
word in season.' Should he grant me this, it would be a favor 
indeed. 

" Perhaps I ought to address you as a Christian. Perhaps 
you have, ere this, become a cordial, decided disciple of Jesus 
Christ. I am not entirely without hope that this is the case. 
Few things could give me more pleasure than to be assured 
that it is so. If it is, you will need no exhortations from me 
to pursue a course which you have already found to be * ways 
of pleasantness and paths of peace.' If it is, you have already 
' tasted and seen that the Lord is good ;' you know his good- 
ness, not speculatively, or by report merely, but experimental- 
ly ; and you can address the Saviour in the language of Peter 
— ' I believe and am sure that thou art the Christ, the Son of 
the living God.' But, if this is not the case, if your mind re- 
mains in the same state in which I left it, the following hints 
may possibly prove serviceable : — 

** God, as a wise Being, employs means and instruments 
suited to the work which he designs to perform. He never 
employs powerful means, or dignified agents, to effect a work 
which might as well be effected by weak means and feeble 
agents. He would not employ an angel to do the work of a 
23* 



270 MEMOIR OF 

man ; he would not send his only Son to perform works which 
did not transcend the powers of an angel. Hence we may 
infer, that, if men or angels could have effected the work of 
man's redemption, God would not have employed his own Son 
to effect it ; and, if that Son could have effected it in any 
easier way than by dying on the cross, he would never have 
consented to die in that manner. Consider, then, my dear 
sir, how great a work this must have been. To create the 
world cost Jesus Christ but six days ; but to redeem the world 
cost him thirty-three years, spent in poverty and labor, and 
the shedding of his own blood. How great, then, must have 
been the evils from which he did all this to redeem us 1 How- 
terrible must be the situation of sinners, since he suffered so 
much to rescue them from it ! From the dignity of the Phy- 
acian, and the costliness of the remedy, we may learn how 
dangerous, how desperate, was the disease. Only let a man 
say, with firm conviction, — * My situation was so dangerous, so 
hopeless, that nothing less than the incarnation and death of 
God's eternal Son could save me from it,' and he will scarcely 
remain at rest until he has secured salvation. He will not, 
cannot rest in a situation so dangerous. 

" But these facts and inferences, obvious as they are, we 
are prone to overlook. There is a species of religion which 
appears to us much more rational and agreeable than the doc- 
trines of the cross. It is, indeed, little better than deism ; for 
Christ has almost no place in it. It may, therefore, be useful 
to attend to such passages as these : — * All men should honor 
the Son, even as they honor the Father :' — ' He that honoreth 
not the Son, honoreth not the Father :' — * He that denieth the 
Son, hath not the Father.' Christ says — ' No man cometh to 
the Father but by me :' — ' In him dwells all the fulness of the 
Godhead bodily.' Now, if all the fulness of the Godhead 
dwells in Christ, no man can obtain any portion of that ful- 
ness without applying to Christ. In a word, Christ's language 
is — * Without me ye can do nothing.' Never, then, shall we 
do any thing successfully in religion, unless we apply for and 
obtain this assistance. We must begin with Christ. He is 
the Author and Finisher of our faith. 

" I have written at random, and in the dark respecting your 
present feelings. I can scarcely hope that these broken hints 
will be of any service. But they will, at least, serve as a proof 
that I have not forgotten your kindness, and that I feel an in- 
terest in your welfare. This interest is deeper than you are, 
perhaps, aware. It would gratify me much to hear from you, 
and still more to hear that you are ' rejoicing in the truth.' Be 



^t^ata^mitm 



EOWARD PAYSON. 271 

pleased to remember me respectfully and affectionately to Mrs. 

. I have not forgotten her kindness. Our journey, after 

we left you, was tolerably pleasant, but of little service to my 
health. ***** May we all meet in heaven, is the 
frequent prayer of 

^ " Yours sincerely." 

To a distant lady, in whose piety he had full confidence, 
but who was much discouraged respecting herself; — 



*'My DEAR Mrs. — . 

" What a task you have imposed on me ! You require me 
to write you a letter which shall make you ieel, and yet you 
tell me that the Bible, the letter which God himself has sent 
to you from heaven, does not make you feel. If I believed 
this to be the case, could I write with any hope of success ? 
Could I hope to affect a heart which a message from heaven 
does not affect ? But I do not, cannot believe that this mes- 
sage has failed to affect you. Your letter to Mrs. P. contains 
proof that it has not. In that letter you say — * I hate myself 
while I write.' But hatred of one's self, or self-abhorrence, is 
one of the constituent parts of true repentance. No one but 
the real penitent, no one who is not a Christian, hates himself 
He who abhors himself sees and feels it to be right that God 
should abhor him. He can, accordingly, take part with God 
against himself — justify God while he reproaches and con- 
demns himself And he who can do this is prepared to em- 
brace the gospel, to receive it as glad tidings of great joy. 
Are you not then, my dear madam, proved to be a Christian 
out of your own mouth ? If you do not choose to yield to 
proof from that source, let me request you to come with me 
to the mount of transfiguration. We may, like the disciples, 
feel emotions of fear as we enter the brigrht cloud which over- 
shadows it, but we have no reason to entertain such emotions. 
Now contemplate him who stood on the summit, in the midst 
of this briojht cloud. See his countenance, shininof like the 
sun, and his raiment, white as the light. See all the fulness 
of the Godhead dwellinor in him, diffusinor itself around. Hear 
the awful voice of the eternal Father, proclaiming — ' This is 
my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear ye him/ 
Recollect all that you have heard and read of the Being be- 
fore you. Think of his power to save, of his willingness to 
save, of his delight in saving sinners. And now. what does 
your heart say to all this ? What reply does it make when 



272 MEMOIR OF 

the Saviour, turning upon you a look full of invitation, benev- 
olence, and compassion, says to you — Fear not, Mary, to ap- 
proach me ; 1 am come to seek and to save that which was 
lost : shall I save thee ? Wilt thou consent to have me for 
thy Saviour upon my own terras ? Wilt thou believe that 
I am disposed to look with an eye of pity on thy struggles 
against sin, and to assist thee in overcoming it ? Wilt thou 
believe that I can bear with thee, forgive thee, have patience 
with thee, and never be weary of instructing thee, reclaiming 
thee, and leading thee forward in the way to heaven ? — And 
now, my dear madam, let me ask, once more. What reply does 
your heart make to this language ? Does it not say, with 
Peter, — * Lord, it is, good to be here' — it is good to sit at thy 
feet, and hear thy word; I believe, I am sure, that thou art the 
Christ, the Son of the living God ? — If this is the language of 
your heart, he does, in effect, say to you — ' Blessed art thou, 
Mary-Ann; for flesh and blood have not revealed Ihis unto 
thee, but my Father, who is in heaven/ Blessed art thou, for 
thou ha«t chosen the good part, and it shall never be taken 
from thee.— But perhaps you will say — for you have to dispute 
against yourself — * I believe nothing, feel nothing, of all this/ 
Let me, then, make another trial. St. Paul, speaking of an- 
cient believers, says — ' If they had been mindful of the coun- 
try whence they came out, they might have had opportunity 
to return thither ; but they desired another country, even a 
heavenly ; wherefore, God is not ashamed to be called their 
God.' Now permit me to apply this passage to your case. 
If you are mindful of the world, if you wish to return to that 
careless, sinful state of conformity to it, from which you are 
professedly come out, you have opportunity to return to it ; 
there is nothing to prevent you. But can you say that you 
wish to return ? Can you deny that you desire a better coun- 
try, even a heavenly ? If you do desire it, if you have no 
wish to return to the service of sin, then God is not ashamed 
to be called your God ; and, if he is not ashamed to be called 
your God, then you ought not to be afraid to call him so ; but 
ought to approach him with confidence, crying, ^ My Father ! 
my God !' " 

The following letter of condolence to his bereaved parents 
contains some reminiscences of a most valuable woman, which 
ought to be preserved, and which will be gladly recognised 
by great numbers, to whom she was endeared by " the good 
works and alms-deeds which she did :" — 



• « 



EDWARD PAYSON. 373 

"My dear afflicted Parents, May^^ 1818. 

** You \i ill probably hear from poor brother Rand, before 
you receive this letter, that you have one child less on earth, 
to comfort you in the decline of life ; that dear, dear Grata 
has gone before you to heaven. I cannot hope to console you ; 
but I do hope that your surviving children will feel bound to 
do every thing in their power to make up your loss, by increas- 
ed filial aftection, and Hioncern for your happiness. I cannot 
mourn for Grata. How much suffering of body and mind has 
she escaped by her early departure ! But I mourn for poor broth- 
er Rand, for his motherless children, and for you. It would be 
some consolation to you, could you know how much she was 
beloved, how greatly her loss is lamented, how much good she 
did, and how loudly she is praised by all who knew her. I 
doubt not that hundreds mourn for her, and feel her loss 
almost or quite as much as do her relatives. Mr. H., who 
preached her funeral sermon, gave her a most exalted charac- 
ter ; and a young lady, who resided a few weeks in Mr. Rand's 
family, speaks of her, every where, as the most faultless person 
with whom she was ever acquainted. 

** Many, many prayers have been offered up, both here and 
at Gorham, that you may be supported and comforted, when 
the tidings reach you ; and I hope and trust they will be an- 
swered. Thanks be to God, that you are loved and blessed by 
many who never saw you, on account of your children. Mr. 
Rand feels great hopes that her loss will be blessed to his church 
and people ; and that she will do more good in her death, than 
she has done in her life; and from what I saw at the funeral, 
I cannot but indulge similar hopes. You will wish to know 
how he bears the loss ; but I can hardly tell. When I saw 
him, he had been in a state of confusion, and surrounded by 
his mourning people, from the moment of her death ; so that, 
as he more than once observed, he could scarcely realize that 
she was dead, or tell how he felt. The worst is yet to come ; 
but I doubt not he will be supported. I hope, too, that her 
loss will do me some good. The suddenness of her departure 
makes the other world appear very near; and she seems as 
much, and even more alive, than she did before. I preached 
with reference to the subjec*t yesterday ; and couW not but 
hope that her death might be blessed to some of my people, or, 
at least, to some of the church." 

To two of his flock, who, in their absence from home, were 
to receive, with this letter, the afflicting intelligence of the 
death of their only child : — * 

* Christian Spectator for March, 1830. 



274 MEMOIR OF 

"My dear brother and sister in Christ, and now brother and 
sister in affliction, the letters which accompany this will inform 
you why I write. I see and share in the poignant grief which 
those letters occasion ; nor would I rudely interrupt it. I will 
sit down and weep with you in silence for a while ; and when 
the first gush of wounded affection is past ; when the tribute 
which nature demands, and which religion does not forbid, has 
been paid to the memory of your dear departed babe, I will at- 
tempt to whisper a word of consolation. May the ** God of all 
consolation" make it such. Were I writing to parents who 
know nothing of religion, 1 should indeed despair of affording 
you any consolation. My task would be difficult indeed, nor 
should I know what to say. I could only tell them of a God 
whom they had never known, of a Saviour with whom they 
had formed no acquaintance, of a Comforter whose consoling 
power they had never experienced, of a Bible from whose rich 
treasures they had never been taught to derive support. But 
in writing to you, my only difficulty is of a very different kind. 
It consists in selecting from the innumerable topics of consola- 
tion contained in the Scriptures, those which are best adapted 
to your peculiar situation. So numerous are they, that I know 
not which to mention or which to omit. May God guide my 
choice and direct my pen. It is needless, in writing to Chris- 
tian parents, to you^ to enlarge on the common topics of con- 
solation. I need not tell you who has done this, — who it is 
that gives and takes away. I need not tell you, that ** whom the 
Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he 
receiveth." I need not tell you of the great duties of resigna- 
tion and submission, for you have long been learning them in 
a painful but salutary school. And need I tell you that he 
who inflicts your sufferings, knows their number and weight, 
knows all the pain you feel, and sympathizes with you even as 
you once sympathized with your dear babe ; for as a father 
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. 
O think of this ; the pity, the parental pity, of a God. Who 
would not willingly be afflicted to be thus pitied ! Go then, my 
dear brother and sister, and lean with sweet confiding love up- 
on the bosom of this pitying, sympathizing Friend ; there depos- 
it all your sorrows, and hear him»saying. The cup which / give 
you, my children, will you not drink it? Remember he knows 
all its bitterness. He himself mentions the grief of parents 
mourning for a first born and only child as exceedingly great. 
Remember too, that taking this bitter cup with cheerfulness 
from your Father's hand, will be considered by him as an 
unequivocal token of your filial affection. " Now I know that 



EDWARD PAYSON. 275 

thou lovest me," said he to Abraham, '* seeing thoU hast not 
withheld thy son, thine only son from me." It requires the 
same kind of grace, if not the same degree of grace, to resign 
a child willingly to God, as to sacrifice it on the altar ; and if 
you are enabled thus to resign your babe, God will say to you, 
Now I know that ye love me, seeing ye withheld not your child, 
your only child, from me. If at times, when " all the parent 
rises in your bosoms," these consolations should prove insuffi- 
cient to quiet your sorrows, think on what is the situation and 
employment of your dear departed child. She is doubtless 
praising God ; and, next to the gift of Christ, she probably 
praises him for giving her parents who prayed for her and 
dedicated her to God. She now knows all that you did for 
her, and loves and thanks you for it, and will love and thank 
you forever ; for though natural ties are dissolved by death, yet 
those spiritual ties which unite you and your child, will last 
long as eternity. She has performed all the work, and done 
all the good, for which she was sent to us, and thus fulfilled 
the end of her earthly existence ; and if you have been the 
means of bringing into being a little immortal, who had just 
lighted on these shores, and then took her flight to heaven, you 
have reason to be thankful ; for it is an honor and a favor. 
Neither your existence nor your union have been in vain, since 
you have been the instruments of adding one more blest voice 
to the choirs above. But I must close. May God bless you, 
support and restore you to us in safety, is the prayer of your 
affectionate friend and pastor, 

*' Edward Payson." 

A letter of counsel to a candidate for the ministry : — 

" My dear Brother, 

" I rejoice to learn that you are in part released firom the 
bondage in which you have been so long held. That you are 
released, I infer, first, from the fact that you are preaching ; 
and, secondly, from your having written me a letter. — But what 
a request does your letter contain !- — That I should write to 
you systematically ! J, who never did any thing systematically 
in my life, but have always lived extempore ! If I write to you, 
it must be in the same way. — It will be the easiest thing in the 
world to give you plenty of good advice. All the difficulty will 
be, to make you follow it. If you are like me, you will never 
learn any thing to any purpose, till it is beaten into you by 
painfiil experience ; and even then, you will probably forget 
it in a tenth part of the time which it took you to learn it. 



276 MEMOIR OF 

However, I will tell you one thing, which experience has 
taught me. If you will believe it, on my word, it will save you 
some suffering. If not, you must learn it, as I did, under the 
scourge. 

" Some time since, I took up a little work, purporting to be 
the lives of sundry characters, as related by themselves. Two 
of those characters agreed in remarking, that they were never 
happy until they ceased striving to be great men. This re- 
mark struck me, as you know the most simple remarks will 
strike us, when Heaven pleases. It occurred to me at once, 
that most of my sins and sufferings were occasioned by an un- 
willingness to be the nothing which I am, and by consequent 
struggles to be something. I saw that if I would but cease 
struggling, and consent to be any thing, or nothing, just as 
God pleases, I might be happy. You will think it strange, 
that I mention this as a new discovery. In one sense, it was 
not new ; I had known it for years. But I now saw it in a 
new light. My heart saw it, and consented to it ; and I am 
comparatively happy. My dear brother, if you can give up all 
desire to be great, and feel heartily willing to be nothing, you 
will be happy too. You must not even wish to be a great 
Christian ; that is, you must not wish to make great attain- 
ments in religion, for the sake of knowing that you have made, 
or for the sake of having others think that you have made 
them. Very true, and very good, you will say, though some- 
what trite ; but how am I to bring myself to such a state ? Let 
me ask, in reply, why you are not troubled, when you see one 
man receive military, and another masonic honors ? Why are 
you not unhappy, because you cannot be a colonel, a general, 
or a most worshipful grand high priest. Because, you answer, 
I have no desire for these titles or distinctions. And why do 
you not desire them ? Simply because you are not running a 
race in competition with those who obtain them. You stand 
aside, and say. Let those who wish for these things have them. 
Now if you can, in a similar manner, give up all competition 
with respect to other objects ; if you can stand aside from the 
race which too many ministers are running, and say, from your 
heart, ' Let those who choose to engage in such a race divide 
the prize; let one minister run away with the money, and 
another with the esteem, and a third with the applause, &c. 
&c. ; I have something else to do ; a different race to run ; 
be God's approbation the only prize for which I run ; let me 
obtain that, and it is enough ;" — I say, if you can, from the 
heart, adopt this language, you will find most of your difficul- 
ties and sufferings vanish. But it is hard to say this. It is 



EDWARD PAYSON. 377 

Silmost impossible to persuade any man to renounce the race, 
without cutting off his feet, or, at least, fettering him. This 
God has done for me ; this he has been doing for you. And 
you will, one day, if you do not now, bless him for all your 
sufferings, as I do for mine, I have not suffered one pang 
too much. God was never more kind than when I thought 
him most unkind ; nqver more faithful than when I was ready 
iio say, His faithfulness has failed. Let him fetter you, then, 
if he pleases. Consent that he should cut off your feet, if he 
pleases. Any thing is a blessing which prevents us from run- 
ning the fatal race, which we are so prone to run ; which first 
convinces us that we are nothing, and then makes us willing 
to be so," 

To an aged mother, suffering great anxiety on account of 
the disheartened and comfortless condition of her son : — 

*' You give yourself too much trouble about P. After you 
have prayed for him, as you have done, and committed him 
to God, should you not cease to feel anxious respecting him ? 
The command, '^ Be careful for notJiing,'' is unlimited; and 
so is the expression '* casting all your care upon him." If 
we cast our burdens upon another, can they continue to 
press upon us? If we bring them away with us from the 
throne of grace, it is evident we do not leave them there. 
With respect to myself, I have made this one test of my pray- 
ers. If, after committing any thing to God, I can, like Han- 
nah, come away, and have my countenance no more sad, my 
heart no more pained, or anxious, I look upon it as one proof 
that I prayed in faith ; but, if I bring away my burden, I con- 
clude that faith was not in exercise. If God has any work for 
P. to do, he will cause him to do it. He made him, as he 
made every thing else, for his own glory, and he will cause his 
glory to be promoted by him. Of course, I should not urge 
this as a reason for neglecting to counsel or pray for him ; but 
as a reason why, when we have performed these duties, we 
should be free from all care and anxiety respecting the event. 
— The case of Cowper, which you feared w'ould do me hurt, 
did me much good. It led to such reflections as these : — If 
God could, without injury to himself, or his cause, suffer such 
a mind as that of Cowper to rust in inaction, to be fettered by 
nervous difficulties and temptations, or to be uselessly employ- 
ed for ten years together in translating a pagan poet, is it any 
wonder, that he should leave my little mind to be fettered and 
crippled, ac-d my time to pass away in a useless manner ? Af- 
24 



278 MEMOIR OF 

ter all, I am treated more favorably than he was; and I de- 
sire to be thankful that it is no worse with me. You may 
make similar reflections respecting P's case. Should God 
leave him in his present state al! his days, it would be nothing 
new in the history of his dealings with his people. And you 
will allow that he has a right to do it, and that he will not do 
it unless it is for the best. Where, then, is any reason for 
anxiety? I should like, indeed, to have God make use of me 
to do great things ; and you would like to have him employ P. 
to do great things ; but if he chooses to leave us both crippled 
and useless, we must submit." 

To the Rev. Daniel Temple, missionary to Western Asia : — 

" Portland^ Oct, 13, 1822. 
"My dear Brother, 

" I dare not decline the correspondence which you propose. 
The common rules of civility, to say nothing of Christian af- 
fection, forbid it. Yet I do not engage in such a correspond- 
ence without reluctance. I feel none of the confidence which 
you express, that it will prove beneficial to you. Did your 
sphere of action resemble mine, it is barely possible that I 
might suggest some hints which would be useful. But the sit- 
uation of a missionary in Palestine differs so widely from that 
of a minister in a Christian country, that no advice which I 
can give would afford you any assistance. And the distance 
between us increases my unwillingness to write. Almost any 
thing in the form of a letter might answer, were it to be sent 
only a few miles ; but a letter which is to cross the seas, which 
is to go to Palestine, ought surely to contain something worth 
reading. Even gold and silver are almost too bulky to be sent 
so far. Such a letter should resemble bank notes, or bills of 
exchange. But such a letter I have no hopes of writing. The 
faculty of condensing much in a small compass, is one of the 
many faculties which I do not possess. However, I will write. 
May he who knows in what circumstances this letter will find 
you, guide me to write something which may prove a *' word 
in season." 

" One of the principal results of the little experience which 
I have had as a Christian minister, is a conviction that religion 
consists very much in giving God that place in our views and 
feelings, which he actually fills in the universe. We know 
that in the universe he is all in all. So far as he is constantly 
all in all to us, so far as we comply with the Psalmist's charge 
to his soul My soul, wait thou only upon God ;" so far, I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 279 

apprehend, have we advanced toward perfection. It is com- 
paratively easy to wait upon God, but to wait upon him only^ — 
to feel, so far as our strength, happiness, and usefulness are 
concerned, as if all creatures and second causes were annihi- 
lated, and we were alone in the universe with God, is, I suspect, 
a difficult and rare attainment. At least, I am sure it is one 
which I am very far from having made. In proportion as we 
make this attainment, we shall find every thing easy; for we 
shall become, emphatically, men of prayer ; and we may say 
of prayer, as Solomon says of money, that it answereth all 
things. I have often thought that every minister, and espe- 
cially every missionary, ought fi-equently to read, or at least 
call to mind, Foster's Essay on the Epithet Romantic. If you 
have not his Essays at hand, you may, perhaps, recollect some 
of his concluding remarks. After showing that it is highly 
romantic to expect extraordinary success fi-om ordinary means, 
he adds to this effect, — "The individual, who should solemnly 
resolve to try the best and last possible efficacy of prayer, and 
unalterably determine that heaven should not withhold a sin- 
gle influence, which the utmost effort of persevering prayer 
could bring down, would probably find himself becoming a 
much more successful agent in his little sphere." Very few 
missionaries since the apostles, probably, have tried the exper- 
iment. He, who shall make the first trial, will, I believe, ef- 
fect wonders. May you, my dear brother, be that happy man. 
Nothing that I could write, nothing which an angel could write, 
would be necessary to him who should make this trial. I 
trust that you will find our Master is as really present in Pal- 
estine as he was in the days of his flesh ; that you will some- 
times enjoy his presence in the very places in which it was 
formerly enjoyed by the apostles. We read that, on one occa- 
sion, they *^ returned to Jesus, and told him all things, both 
what they had done, and what they had taught." If we were, 
in like manner, to come to his feet every evening, and tell him 
where we have been, what we have done, what we have said, 
and what were our emotions through the day ; we should, I 
believe, find it both pleasant and profitable. Perhaps he would 
say to us, as he did to them. Come apart, and rest with me 
awhile. May he often invite you to rest awhile with him, to 
refresh you when faint and weary, and, after a long life of 
usefulness, take you to rest with him forever in his own heaven. 
" I write no religious intelligence, for you will have it in the 
Recorder. — I may, however, mention, that the ministers in this 
state agreed to observe the first day of the present year, as a 
day 3f fasting und prayer. In cons.equence, we have had more 



280 ^ MEMOIR OF 

revivals in the state this year than in any former year, though 
none of them has been very extensive. About forty have been 
added to our church. We long to have good news from Pales- 
tine ; but are aware that we must wait and pray long, before 
we can expect to hear much. 

" I commend you to God, my dear brother, and send this 
letter merely as a proof of Christian affection.*' 

To a ministering brother at a distance, whose labors were 
suspended by sickness : — 

*^ I thank you for your letter, though, in consequence of the 
unfavorable information which it communicated respecting 
your health, it gave me quite as much pain as pleasure. I had 
hoped to hear a better account of you. But why do I say 
hoped ? or what business have I to talk of hoping or fearing, 
when God is ordering every thing in infinite wisdom and mer- 
cy ? The fact is, I usually find it much easier to acquiesce in 
my own afRictions, than in those of my friends ; for I can see 
that afflictions are absolutely necessary for me, but do not see 
with equal clearness that they are necessary for them. But 
if I do not see it, God does, or he would not afflict them. As 
you are in his hands, you will be well the moment that he sees 
it best you should be so ; and why should I wish you to be well 
any sooner ? However, I should be glad to hear that the time 
is arrived, and that you are able to resum.e your labors. If you 
are not, and are inquiring of your Master what he would have 
you do, his answer is, ** Lie down at my feet and be quiet, till 
I give you strength to get up and work." But he knows we 
had rather labor than suffer; and that we had rather labor and 
suffer too, than be laid aside ; and therefore he sometimes lays 
us aside for awhile, in order to try us with what is most disa- 
greeable. Besides, no man is fit to rise up and labor, until he 
is made willing to lie still and suffer as long as his Master 
pleases. But I had almost forgot that I am writing a letter, 
and not a sermon. This is the less to be wondered at, because 
I laid aside a sermon to scribble to you. I will try to be less 
forgetful in future. 

** The revival which you predicted is not arrived ; and, what 
is worse, we see no signs of its approach, unless increasing 
deadness is a sign. At the last union prayer meeting, I pro- 
posed that all the churches should unite in observing a day of 
fasting and prayer, and assemble in the morning at one meet- 
ing-house, in the afternoon at another, and in the evening at 
a third No objection v/as made ; but it was thought best to 



EDWARD PAYSON. 281 

appoint a committee to consult each church in form. If they 
agree to the proposal, as I think they will, we shall appoint 
some day next week, and have notice given from the pulpits 
on the preceding Sabbath. * * * 

** I hope the good people of B., C, &/C., have become quiet 
again, sihce La Fayette's departure. When will the Saviour 
be invited to visit us, and be welcomed as he was ? Not, I 
am afraid, in my day, nor yours. 

'* I have nothing more to say, except that my health is in 
the best state possible ; and yet it is very bad. I leave you to 
solve the riddle, if it is one, at your leisure. — When you have 
nothing better to do, write to me, and tell me that you are the 
better for having been sick." , 

To a kinsman under spiritual trials : — 

** My dear Brother^ 

" I have just received your doleful epistle, and, though pa- 
rochial cares press upon me, — having just returned from a 
journey, — I must snatch a moment to answer it. Would to 
God I could write something which would prove serviceable, 
but I fear I shall not. However, I will make the attempt, and 
may God bless it. — You have no reason to suppose that there 
is any thing peculiar or discouraging in your present situation. 
God is dealing with you, as he did with Hezekiah, when he left 
him, to try him, that he *' might know all that was in his heart." 
If you have ever read Mr. Newton's description of grace in the 
blade, in the ear, and in the full corn, you will recollect, that 
he mentions ^' desire," as the characteristic of the first stage, 
and " conflict," as that of the second. If I understand your 
letter, you have entered on the stage of conflict, and must now 
expect more distressing proofs of the desperate wickedness of 
your heart, than you had before experienced. In another let- 
ter, Mr. Newton says, ** I believe God never gives his people 
much of a victory over the world, till he has left them to feel 
how great is its power over them." This remark, I have no 
doubt, is true ; and God, I trust, is now preparing you for a 
victory over the world, by showing you more of its strength 
and your own weakness. Besides, I have no doubt that your 
present trials are occasioned, in part, by the state of your 
health. But, however this may be, let me assure you, that, so 
long as sin is seen, hated, resisted ; so long as we groan under 
it, and struggle against it, it shall not harm us. Do not, then, 
yield to discouragement ; do not neglect the means of grace, 
as you will sometimes be strongly tempted to do ; do not cease 
24* 



282 MEMOIR or 

struggling, because your struggles seem to avail nothing ; bcft 
continue, like Gideon, though " faint, yet pursuing." Could 
I tell you what bitter proofs I have had of my desperate, des- 
perate depravity — how often I have been brought to my wits' 
end — how often I should have chosen strangling and death 
rather than life, and bo\y I have been carried through all, ft 
would, I think, afford you some encouragement. But perhaps 
you will say, " If I could feel distressed, if I were not so stu- 
pid in this situation, it would encourage me.'' And how, let 
me ask, are you to learn that your heart is like the nether mill- 
stone, except by being left for a time, to feel that nothing can 
either melt or move it? I do not, of course, mean to justify 
or excuse this hardness of heart.. It is a most abominable and 
detestable evil, and I should be very soEry to say any thing 
which should lead you to think lightly of it; still, if our hearts 
are hard and wicked, in a far greater degree than we ever con- 
ceived of, it is surely best that we should know it ; else, how 
should we ever be duly grateful to our great Physician for heal- 
ing us. Heal you he will, my dear brother, I doubt not ; but he 
will first make you know how sick, how mortally sick you are. 
In consequence, you Vvill think more highly than ever of his kind- 
ness, faithfulness, and skill ; yo6 will love much, because much 
has been forgiven you ; and you will be better prepared to join in 
the song of " Worthy is the Lamb." I must again, however, 
beseech you not to let sin turn these precious truths to poison, 
by tempting you to think lightly of sin; and not by any means 
be driven from attempting to read, watch, meditate, and pray. 
In your present situation, this is the great danger. You will 
be strongly tempted to despondency and unbelief, and when 
these evils prevail, you will be tempted to neglect the means 
of grace as useless, or as means which you cannot use aright. 
Resist this temptation, and all will be well." 

Filial and fraternal duty happily recognised r — 

"My dear Mother, 

" I should sooner have answered your last, had I not expect- 
ed, ere this, to see you. But the stage disappointed me. I had 
engaged a place in it, and sat up all night waiting for it, but it 
did not come. Thus, no doubt for some wise reasons, my visit 
to you was prevented. I had two particular reasons for wishing 
to come. One v/as, to talk with P. He is certainly wrong ; he 
is entangled in a snare of Satan ; he can pray, and he must 
pray ; he has no excuse. His unwillingness to have you presi* 
him ?n the subject is wrong. I know ail about it. I have 



EDWARD PArSON. 333 

been in the same snare myself. Whatever P. may now think, 
he will, sooner or later, be convinced that the grand difficulty 
lies, not in his nerves, but in his heart. I hope he will not 
pretend that his constitution is more shattered, or his health 
worse than mine. But I have never seen the time when I 
could not" pray, if my heart was right. Let him not think, 
however, that I mean to censure him harshly. I have been 
too guilty myself, to allow of this. But I do beseech him, if 
he has any regard to his happiness here or hereafter, not to 
let Satan persuade him, that he is unable to pray. There have 
been many seasons, in which I could pray only while walking 
my study, and, even then, only in short, vehement ejaculations. 
If I knelt down, my head was so confused, that I could do 
nothing. Let him resolve that he will spend some time every 
day in prayer, if he can do nothing more than cry, " Lord, 
pity me! Lord, help me!" He is ruined if he does not. 

*' The other reason why I wished to see you, was, to know 
what your plans and wishes are respecting your place of res- 
idence, when H. moves. I thought that you might, perhaps, 
feel unwilling to move so far as New York. I hope it is need- 
less to tell my dear mother, that if she chooses to make her 
home with us, we will do all in our power to make her home 
comfortable. I hope she will consult nothing but her own in- 
clinations. If her children can do any thing to make the re- 
mainder of her days comfortable, I trust they all have a full 
disposition to do it. She has only to say the word, and we 
will place her where she thinks she will be most comfortable. 

** You will be glad to hear that, for a few weeks, I have en- 
joyed some respite from my sufferings. I observed the last 
anniversary of my ordination, and the first day of the present 
year, as days of fasting and prayer; and, though I could do 
little more than groan and sigh, a blessing has followed. I 
have suffered none too much. Not one pang could have been 
spared. Should I suffer hereafter, do not let it distress you. 
It is all necessary; all will be well at last." 

Trembling Christians directed to the source of joy and 
strength : — 

" Many of the church have been so much distressed, that 1 
thought it necessary to comfort them, if possible, and, on the 
Sabbath morning, preached from 1 Sam. xii. 20—24, *' Fear 
not ; ye have done all this wickedness," &c. My design was, 
to show trembling, desponding Christians, that, notwithstand- 
ing all their great wickedness, they ought still to follow God 



284 MEMOIR OF 

with confidence and increasing diligence ; and that, if they 
would do this, they need not despond, or despair, when God 
shows them what is in their hearts. Meditate on the passage, 
if you please ; and I hope it may encourage you as much as it 
did the church. I have preached more respecting Christ of 
late than ever ; and am more and more convinced, that the 
knowledge of Christ crucified is the one thing needful, the 
grand source of peace, and joy, and growth in grace. Count 
all things loss for the excellency of this knowledge ; and pray 
for it more than for any thing else, and you will find it to be so.'* 

To a brother, who shrunk from his duty, through depression 
of mind, and an erroneous opinion of his own qualifications for 
the ministry. — Lest any should use the authority of Dr. Pay- 
son's name to urge men to assume the sacred office without 
the requisite qualifications, it ou^ht to be stated, that the per- 
son addressed in the following letter, besides possessing deci- 
ded piety, had passed through a regular course of preparatory 
studies at a theological seminary : — 

" My dear Brother, 

" Your letter found me more than ordinarily hurried ; but I 
feel it to be so important that you should be licensed this fall, 
that I must snatch a mom.ent to answer it. Your feelings, as 
you describe them, are just like mine, only less aggravated by 
long continuance. I mention this that you may pay more re- 
gard to my advice. I am as certain that it is best for you to 
take license immediately, as I can be of any thing. Rely 
upon it, that, if you delay, your difficulties will increase, and 
you will feel more and more as if it was impossible to preach. 
Your only safety lies in placing yourself in circumstances 
which will make exertion necessary, and which will secure 
divine assistance. Never mind your infirmities. You have 
nothing to do with them. Your business is to trust, and go 
forward. If you wait till the sea becomes land, you will never 
walk on it. You must leave the ship, and, like Peter, set your 
feet upon the waves, and you will find them marble. Christ 
is a good Master. He wont suffer you to sink : and you will, 
at length, glory in your infirmities. I would not give up the 
precious proofs, which I have received, in consequence of my 
weakness, of his power, faithfulness, and love, for all the com- 
forts of good health. But be assured, that, if you remain as 
you are, Satan will weave a net round you, which you will 
never break. Every mental and religious effort will become 
more difficult and painful ; your mind will be like the body of 



i 



EDWARD FAYSON. ggg^ 

a rickety child ; you will live a burden to yourself and friends, 
and die without the consolation of having been made useful. 
This would infallibly have been my fate, had I not been thrust 
into the ministry before I well knew what I was about. Yet 
you see I have, somehow or other, been carried along, and so 
will you be. Do not then, my dear, dear brother, stand hes- 
itating. A feeble, nervous man must not deliberate, but act ; 
for his deliberation will not be worth a straw, but his activity 
may be, and probably will be, useful both to himself and 
others. 

" When Christ told his disciples to feed the multitude with 
five loaves, they did not hesitate, and say. Lord, let us first see 
the bread multiplied ; if we begin, and have not enough, we 
shall be put to shame'; — ^but they distributed what they had, 
and it increased in the distribution. So you will find it. You 
imist, therefore, go forward. There is no reason why you 
should not. If you delay, indolence will steal upon you, and 
bind you in chains, which you will never break. 

" I charge you, then, before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, 
to be up and doing. There are fifty places in this state, where 
the most unconnected things, which your lips could utter, 
would do good, and be well received. You have no concep- 
tion by what apparently feeble means God often works wonders. 
Let the next tidings I hear from you be, that you have crossed 
the Rubicon ; or, rather, let me see you here forthwith, in the 
character of a preacher. 

" My health is as usual, but my Master is more than usually 
kind. At my request, the church lately had a sj>ecial meeting 
to pray for me. God has heard them wonderfully, and my cup 
runs over." 

Prudential advice on the preservation of health, addressed to 
a student in divinity^: — 

^' My dear BROTHER; 

" I am very sorry to learn that your health is not better, but 
rather worse, than when I was at R. Should it not have im- 
proved before you receive this, I beg you will attend to it with- 
out delay ; attend to it, as your first and chief duty ; for such, 
be assured, it is. " A merciful man is merciful to his beast;" 
and you must be merciful to your beast, or, as Mr. M. would 
say, to your " animal." Remember that it is your Master's 
property ; and he will no more thank you for driving it to death, 
than an earthly master would thank a servant for riding a val- 
uable horse to death, under pretence of zeal for his interest. 



286 MEMOIR OF 

The truth is, I am afraid Satan has jumped on to the saddle, 
and when he is there, in the guise of an angel of light, he 
whips and spurs at a most unmerciful rate, as every joint in 
my poor broken-winded animal can testify, from woful experi- 
ence. He has temptations for the conscience, as Mr. Newton 
w^ell observes ; and when other temptations fail, he makes great 
use of them. Many a poor creature has he ridden to death, by 
using his conscience as a spur ; and you mi:st not be ignorant, 
nor act as if you were ignorant, of his devices. Remember 
Mr. Brainerd's remark, that diversions, rightly managed, in- 
creased, rather than diminished his spirituality. I now feel 
that I am never serving our Master more acceptably, than when, 
for his sake, I am using means to preserve my health, and 
lengthen my life ; and you must feel in a similar manner, if 
you mean to do him much service in the world. He knows 
what you would do for him if you could. He knows that 
your spirit is willing, when your flesh is weak. Do not think 
less favorably of him than you would of a judicious, affec- 
tionate father. Do not think that he requires you to labor, 
when such a father would enjoin rest or relaxation. Ride, then, 
or go a fishing, or employ yourself in any way, which will ex- 
ercise the body gently, without wearying the mind. Above all, 
make trial of the shower bath. You can easily fix up some- 
thing which will answer the purpose. Try it, first, about ten 
o'clock in the morning, when the weather is warm ; and if you 
feel a glow after it, it does you good ; but if it occasions chilli- 
ness, you must rather try a warm bath. My dear brother, do 
attend immediately to these hints, for much depends upon it." 

To two young sisters, the children of distant friends : — 

-" I wish to show you that I feel a deep interest in your 



eternal welfare, and am willing to do any thing in my power 
to promote it. There is a circumstance related in the book 
of Judges, respecting the early part of Samson's life, which 
suggests some thoughts that may perhaps be useful to you. 
We are there told, that ^' the child grew, and that the Lord 
blessed him, and that the Spirit of the Lord began to move him 
at times." I have no doubt that, in a little different sense, the 
Spirit of God begins, very early, to move, at times, upon the 
minds of children and young persons ; especially of those, who, 
like Samson, have pious parents, and have been, like him, 
dedicated to God. He has thus, I believe, at times, moved 
upon your minds. Have you not reason to suppose that He 
has? Have you not sometimes had serious thoughts and feel- 



KDWARD PAYSON. 287 

ings arise in your minds, without any apparent cause ? Have 
you not found something within you which urged upon you 
the necessity of prayer, of remembering your Creator, and of 
preparing for death I My dear young friends, that something 
was the Spirit of God, moving upon your minds. Whenever 
such thoughts and feelings rise without any external cause, 
you may be certain that He is near you. Have you not also 
found that religious instruction affects you very differently at 
different times ? Sometimes, perhaps, it scarcely affects you at 
all. At other times, the same truths take firm hold of your 
attention, and excite your feelings. Now, what occasions this 
difference ? It is this. At one time, the Spirit of God presses 
home the truth upon your minds, and causes it to affect you. 
At another time, He does not apply it, and then it produces no 
effect Our Saviour, you recollect, compares the operations 
of the Spirit to those of the wind. Now, when you see the 
branches of a tree agitated, without any visible cause, you con- 
clude, at once, that the wind is blowing upon them. Just so, 
v/hen your minds are interested and affected in a serious man- 
ner by religious considerations, you may conclude that the 
Holy Spirit is moving upon them. And can you not recollect 
many seasons, or at least some seasons, in which He has thus 
moved upon them ? If so, consider how great a favor, how 
great an act of condescension it was, on the part of God, thus 
to visit you. Had He sent an angel from heaven to warn you, 
you would have thought it a great favor. You would have 
been ready to ask, with surprise, Why does the infinite, ever- 
lasting God condescend to send an angel from heaven to pro- 
mote our welfare ? But for God to send His Spirit to move 
upon your minds, is a much greater favor, a much greater act 
of condescension, than it would be to send an angel to you. 
O then, how greatly ought you to love and thank him for such 
a favor, and how carefully should you cherish, how humbly 
should you yield to the motions of this heavenly visiter! Are 
you still favored with his visits ? Does he still move, at times, 
upon your minds 1 If so, be careful, O be scrupulously care- 
ful, not to grieve Him, and cause Him to forsake you. But 
perhaps He has already withdrawn from you. If so, will you 
not implore His return ? Will you not, after reading this, 
kneel down and say, * Lord, I have ungratefully neglected 
and grieved thy good Spirit, and He has justly withdrawn from 
me. It would be just, should He never return to me. Yet, 
in thy great mercy, let Him return, and again move upon my 
mind , let Him come, and enlighten and sanctify me.' Let this 
be youT daily urgent request," 



888 MEMOIR OF 

To his parents under various and accumulated afflictions : — 

** What a catalogue of trials does your letter contain ! I am 
more and more convinced of what I have long suspected, that 
God tries his people, first, with inward, spiritual trials ; and, 
then, when they have acquired some degree of experience, and 
faith has become strong, he visits them with outward afflic- 
tions. 

*' Dr. Owen says, that Heb. xii. 6 ought to be rendered, 
*' whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth : yea, also, he severely 
chastisethj above the ordinary measure, those sons whom he 
accepts, and peculiarly delights in,^' If this rendering be cor- 
rect, — and the doctor certainly makes it appear so, — my pa- 
rents have reason to think themselves special favorites. Per- 
haps, for a short time before death, God's people may be, in a 
measure, exempted from both inward and outward trials. 

** I have tried to write, because your letter ought to be an- 
swered, and because I wished to write something consolatory 
under your afflictions ; but I can only echo back your groans !'' 

To a Christian brother of rank and wealth : — 

** I have thought much of your situation, since I left you. 
It is but seldom that God gives one of his children so many 
temporal blessings, as he has given you. He has hitherto pre- 
served you, and will, I trust, continue to preserve you, from 
the evils which attend a state of prosperity. But it is, as you 
are aware, a dangerous state, and calls for great watchfulness, 
and niuch prayer. You are, doubtless, conscious of many evil 
propensities working within ; but they may work long, and 
produce much internal mischief, before their effects become 
external and visible to others. The effects of temporal pros- 
perity upon the mind, resemble those of an unhealthy atmos- 
phere upon the body. The constitution is gradually, and 
almost insensibly, undermined and weakened ; and yet no par- 
ticular part can be pointed out, as the seat of the disease, for 
the poison is diffused through the whole system. Spiritual las- 
situde, the loss of spiritual appetite, and an indisposition to 
vigorous spiritual exertion, are some of the first perceptible 
symptoms, that the poison of prosperity is at work. When a 
man detects these symptoms in himself, it is time for him to be 
alarmed. If he delays a little longer, the disease will make 
such progress, as to render him insensible to his danger. — Were 
I placed in such a situation, I should be ruined in six months. 
Still, your situation is, in one respect, desirable. It is one in 



EDWARD PAYSON. 289 

which you may do much for the glory of God and the promo- 
tion of his cause." 

To his revered mother, on leaving her habitation, at the 
final dispersion of her family, August, 1824 : — 

^'My dear Mother, 

*' I was a little surprised, when you were with us, to hear 
you say nothing of the unpleasantness of being obliged, at 
your age, to remove far from the place where you had spent 
so many years. It seemed to me that such a removal must 
involve many circumstances which would be very disagreea- 
ble, and even painful. But, as you said little or nothing on 
the subject, I concluded that it did not appear equally unpleas- 
ant to you. It seems from your letter, however, that the time 
of trial had not then arrived, and that you have since been 
troubled about your removal, as I expected you would be. I 
am glad to find that the trial has now lost something of its 
bitterness, and that you feel reconciled to go where Providence 
calls. You have some illustrious examples, among God's 
ancient servants, to encourage and instruct you. Abraham, 
called to leave his country and his father's house, and Jacob, 
obliged in his old age to go down into Egypt, had trials harder, 
probably, than yours, though of the same nature. But they 
went, and God went with them ; and he will go with you ; doubt 
it not. On the other hand, see how he dealt with his enemies. 
'* Moab hath been at ease from his youth, and hath not been 
emptied from vessel to vessel ; therefore his taste remaineth 
in him, and his scent is not changed." You have not been at 
ease from your youth, and you have been emptied fi-om vessel 
to vessel, and you are now to be emptied again from one vessel 
to another. And surely this is better than to be treated like 
Moab, and possess his character. Besides, as God said to Ja- 
cob, in his old age, " Fear not to go down into Egypt ;" so he 
says to you, " Fear not to go wherever I call ; for my presence 
shall go with you." — I hope you feel no anxieties of a pecunia- 
ry nature. Whil©- one of your children has any thing, you will 
not want. But why do I say this ? Rather let me say, The 
Lord is your Shepherd, and, while he possesses any thing, you 
.shall not want. Poor *****j too, will be taken care of As 
^Q *******#^ J (.g^j^ Qjjy gg^y^ Quce more. Leave him with his 
Master. He knows what to do with him, and he will do all 
things well. If he chooses rather that *****=*^** should suffer, 
he will overrule all his sufferings for good. Only pray for him . 
and then leave him. 
25 



290 MEMOIR OF 

'' I preached yesterday on this passage : — " Though he will 
not give him because he is his friend, yet, because of his im- 
portunity, he will rise and give him as many as he needeth." 
This, as well as the parable of the unjust judge, evidently 
teaches, that importunate prayer will prevail when nothing 
else can. A man may pray ten times, and be denied ; and 
yet, by praying ten times more, obtain the blessing. Had the 
Syro-Phcenician ceased, after making three applications to 
Christ, she would have gone away empty ; but, by applying 
once more, she obtained all that she asked. 

*' It has been a time of trial with me, as well as with you, 
since we parted. I have been reduced lower, in point of 
health, than on any former occasion. For four weeks I was 
unable to preach, and doubted whether I should ever preach 
more. But this was all my trial, and I was kept very quiet. 
My sermon on ** Be still," &c., followed me, and God, in mer- 
cy, inclined me to be still. My people urged me very strongly 
to make a voyage to Europe, and offered to supply the pulpit 
and pay all my expenses. But, though I should like well 
enough to see Europe, I could not feel any freedom to go. I 
did not like to have so much expense lavished upon me, nor 
did I know how to lose so much time as such a voyage would 
require. I am now better, and have been able to preach the 
three last Sabbaths. But I seem to preach in vain. There is 
no noise nor shaking among the dry bones ; and, even of the 
church, I may almost say, There is no breath in them. But 
I am kept from impatience, and am not quite discouraged. 
As I know how desirous you feel that your children should 
love each other, I would tell you, if I could, how much I love 
E. I loved her much before her last visit, and she endeared 
herself still more to us during that visit. I believe, too, that 
I love my brothers pretty well. Do tell them so. What you 
say respecting the complaints of ministers who visit us, I have 
heard before. I do not wonder at it. They have some reason 
to complain. But the reason of our apparent coldness is what 
you suppose it to be. Pressed down to the very dust, as I usu- 
ally am, I cannot always dress my countenance in smiles, nor 
prevent it from expressing my sufferings. Hence I am un- 
popular among ministers. It is a trial, but I cannot help it " 



EDWARD PAYSON. 291 



CHAPTER XVIIl. 

His private character — His affections and demeanor as a IiuS" 
hand, father J master , friend — His gratitude, economy, gen- 
erosity — His temper of mind under injuries. 

It is not every character that will bear a close inspection. 
The more intimately some men are viewed, the less venera- 
tion and respect are felt for them. This is true of some in 
elevated stations, and possessing no small share of public con- 
fidence. Even the church presents this anomaly. A man 
may bear a saint-like visage abroad, and yet be a very fiend 
in his own family ; may put on meekness and devotion in a 
worshipping assembly, while he is the haughty tyrant of his 
wife and children ; may preach self-denial and condescension, 
and yet carry it lordly towards the inmates of his ovv^n dwell- 
ing, making them the ministers of his will and pleasure, or 
else imbittering their existence by his savage temper and un- 
reasonable complaints. 

Professional men, whose public duties are very numerous 
and urgent, are liable to fail in many of those minute regards 
which contribute so much to heighten the 

^' only bliss 



Of paradise which has survived the fall." 

With the prevailing desire and purpose to yield to every claim 
its due consideration, they are in danger of thinking that they 
do well if they are only indifferent to those of the least impos- 
ing description which originate in their domestic relations ; 
that they are not only excusable, but disinterested and praise- 
worthy, in neglecting, from devotion to the public welfare, the 
ten thousand little attentions to a wife's comfort and children's 
instruction and enjoyment, which, though each requires but a 
moment's time, and, taken singly, scarcely deserves specifica- 
tion, constitute, in the aggregate, the principal part of domestic 
felicity. But a man's circumstances must be very peculiar, 
to render these two classes of duties incompatible with each 
other. The look of affection, the kind word seasonably in- 
terposed, the helping hand which love extends, the eye ever 
awake to anticipate the little wants of the household, the heart 



292 MEMOIR OF 

prompt to seize opportunities to soothe sorrow, to calm excited 
feelings, to inspire and promote joy, and to alleviate the burden 
of maternal anxieties and cares which press incessantly upon 
the wife, — what sacrifice of public duty do these require ? 
Yet who can calculate the misery which they prevent, or the 
blessedness which they confer ? As it is not great calamities 
which render men unhappy, but petty injuries, and provoca- 
tions, and disappointments, constantly recurring, too trifling 
to excite public sympathy, or to be made the subject of loud 
complaint, — so it is not insulated acts of profuse generosity, 
and widely separated, though extravagant expressions of affec- 
tion, which constitute the reality or the happiness of friend- 
ship — especially of a friendship so pure and endearing as 
ought ever to subsist between those who are united by conju- 
gal ties. These holy bonds are cemented and strengthened 
by daily and hourly acts and expressions of kindness. And 
where, in the whole compass of motives, could a consideration 
be found to enforce this conjugal tenderness, so affecting and 
impressive as that example of love to which St. Paul refers 
the husband for a pattern of his own duty ? — and it may be 
added, what other reference could have conferred such exalt- 
ed honor on the marriage relation ? — " Husbands, love your 
wives, even as Christ also loved the church. Be not bitter 
against them." This was Dr. Payson's law in all that per- 
tained to conjugal duties ; and to this his daily practice exhib- 
ited as exact a conformity, perhaps, as is ever seen in this state 
of imperfection. Reasons have already been suggested, why 
a sparing use should be made of those letters which exhibit 
his tenderness and fidelity in this relation ; but a few extracts 
may with propriety be introduced : — 

''At Sea, May 10, 1815. 
^^ My DEAR Wife, 

^* As this is the first time I have had occasion to address a let- 
ter to you since we were married, I thought it necessary, before 
1 began, to consider, a few moments, by what title to address 
you. The result of my meditations was a determination to 
employ the term ^ wife ' in preference to any other. If you 
ask why I prefer that name, I answer, Because it reminds me 
that you are mine, my own. I might call you * Dear Louisa,' 
* Dear friend,' or ' Dear ' any thing else — and it might mean 
only that you were a sister, a friend, or a favorite. But, when 
I call you * My wife,' it seems to me to mean every thing 
sweet, amiable, and endearing. It not only reminds me that 
she to whom I write is, under God, minCj but that she is mine 



EDWARD PAYSON. 293 

by the gift and appointment of God — mine by the sacred bond 
of marriage, which seems to give an air of sacredness to our 
union. After all, I have not said vt^hat I meant to say, but 
something a little like it. So do you try to imagine what I 
meant to say, and then confess that I have succeeded better 
than you, in choosing a title with which to head a letter. For 
my own part, I would rather you should call me ' Dear hus- 
band,' than ' Dear friend,' or ' Dear Edward,' &c. However, 
call me by what name you please, your letters will always be 
precious while they continue to utter the language of affection. 
I have just been reading one of two which I have already 
found among my baggage. If you knew the pleasure they 
gave me, you would feel well paid for the trouble of writing. 
I fully intended to write at least one to you, and leave it be- 
hind me ; but I could think of no place to put it, in which you 
would be certain to find it. But I must hasten to give you 
some account of our voyage : — 

** Friday and Saturday, we had fair winds and pleasant 
weather, and I was not at all sea-sick. But on Sunday, it 
beo^an to rain and blow hard. In the eveninor it increased 
to quite a gale, but was still favorable ; so that, on Monday 
noon, we found ourselves, by observation, ninety miles south 
of Philadelphia. Since that time, we have been beating about, 
vainly trying to get within the capes of Delaware. We have 
just taken a pilot on board, and hope to reach Philadelphia in 
about forty-eight hours. Since the gale on Sunday, the doc- 
tor and I have been very sick, and able to eat nothing. For 
two days and nights, without intermission, I was tormented 
with one of my nervous head-aches. This morning it has left 
me, and I begin to feel something like an appetite. I will 
only add now, as an excuse for writing so miserably, that I 
am, at this moment, tossinar and rollin^r about worse than a 
boy in a swing, or on the end of a plank. Every thing near 
me, which is movable, rolls from side to side incessantly ; and 
I should do the same, did I not hold on to something stable. 
I will, therefore, defer the conclusion of my letter till I am 
more established. 

^^ Philadelphia, May 1 1 . 

" We arrived here last night, after a most delightful sail up 
the Delaware. Wind and tide both favored us, so that we 
came at the rate of eleven miles an hour, for ten hours suc- 
cessively. Scarcely ever have I experienced so much pleas- 
ure in one day. Every body seemed happy. Dr. and I 

were in high health and spirits ; the prospect on the banks of 
25* 



294 MEMOIR OF 

the river was delightful, and changing every moment ; the 
day was fine, and the swiftness of our motion was very agreea- 
ble ; and, to crown all, I saw God in his works, and tasted of 
his goodness in every thing. Excess of pleasure was almost 
painful ; before night, I was fairly weary of enjoyment, and 
wdshed for sleep. I thought of you almost every moment ; and 
nothing but the presence of yourself and the children was 
wanting, to render me as happy as I can ever be in this world. 
Last night, I dreamed that I had reached home. I felt your 
tears of affection upon my cheek, and little Edward's arms 
round my neck ; but I awoke, and it v/as a dream. — I have 
not yet been ashore. Every body on board is in a bustle ; the 
passengers hastening to visit their friends, and I standing away 
in one corner alone, talking with my best, dearest earthly 
friend. You, at the distance of five hundred miles, have more 
attractions for me than the whole city of Philadelphia, which 
lies spread out before me, and on which I have scarcely, as 
yet, bestowed a glance. If I did not write thus early, I should 
not be able to send my letter to-day ; and you would be obli- 
ged to wait one day longer before you heard from us. I now 
begin to regret that I did not urge you more to meet me at 
New Haven. It would be a great gratification to have you so 
much nearer to me, and to think of meeting you so much soon- 
er. I still have a faint hope that you will be there. 

" Kiss the children for me ; talk to them about me ; love 
me, as I do you, better than I did — yes, far better than I did, 
when I wrote the last letter to you before we were married. 
Love to all who inquire for me. God be with you, bless you, 
keep you, my dear, dear wife. 

" So prays your affectionate husband." 

In a letter written during another season of absence, is the 
following beautiful passage, in which the gentle and the severe 
are most charmingly blended : — 

'^ Though your letter was consoling, it grieved me for 



a moment. It did not seem to breathe so much tenderness 
as your former letters. But I soon perceived the reason. Your 
mind was braced up to help me bear my burdens ; and in such 
a state of mind, it is not easy to feel or express tenderness. I 
hope you will remember this remark. You know that I am 
often obliged, while at home, to put on all the iron I can com- 
mand, in order to bear up against trials and discouragements ; 
and rnany times, when you know nothing of it, I am engaged 
in most distressing inward conflicts. Now, how can a man 



EDWARD PAYSON. 395 

seem tender and affectionate at such a time ? How could a 
soldier, in the heat of battle, stop to smile upon his wife, or 
kiss his children ? Even if he spoke to them at such a time, 
the highly raised state of his feelings would, probably, give 
something like sharpness to his voice. — But I forbear excuses. 
Christ was tender and affectionate in the severest agonies, the 
most distressing conflicts. I hope, if I am ever permitted to re- 
turn, you will find me a little more like him than I have been.'' 

In his strictly domestic letters, he sometimes hits off the dif- 
ferent humors, peculiarities, relations, and circumstances of 
himself and his connexions, with inimitable vivacity, and a 
sportiveness which shows how easily a great man can unbend 
himself, when occasion requires. — A short passage from the 
close of one such letter will serve as a specimen of the quali- 
ties alluded to ; and, like his satire upon quackery, may serve 
a more important purpose than mere amusement. In the 
keen irony which pervades it, is an effectual rebuke of that 
doating partiality, which leads so many parents to think their 
own children prodigies of genius : — 

** As to baby, she is to be the greatest genius, and the great- 
est beauty in these parts. I could easily fill a sheet with proofs 
of her talents. Suffice it to say, that she has four teeth ; stands 
alone ; says j?a' and md! ; no — no — very stoutly, and has been 
whipped several times for being wiser than her father.'' 

With a heart always more ready to confer favors than to re- 
ceive them, his condition w^as very frequently such, that he 
needed rather *^ to be ministered unto, than to minister ;" but 
the most agonizing sufferings of body, when exempted from 
depression of mind, never rendered him the less cheerful and 
agreeable husband and father. It is astonishing how *' lightly 
he esteemed such afflictions.' They seemed to affect him al- 
most as little as violence inflicted on a block or a stone. His 
demeanor under bodily agonies has often been such, that he 
was rather envied than pitied by his family and attendants. 
These were, indeed, seasons of unusual gayety and cheerful- 
ness. He has left a description of the accumulated evils, that 
were crowded into a few days, into which his playful imagina- 
tion has thrown so much of humor, as to divest the subject of 
its repulsive character, and clothe it with no ordinary attrac- 
tions. But it is chiefly interesting as an illustration of a hap- 
py temper : — 



296 MEMOIR OF 

" Since I wrote last, I have been called to sing of mer- 



cy and judgment. My old friend, the Sick Head-ache, has fa- 
vored me w^ith an unusual share of his company, and has 
seemed particularly fond of visiting me on the Sabbath. Then 
came Cholera Morbus, and, in a few hours, reduced me so low, 
that I could have died as easily as not. Rheumatism next ar- 
rived, eager to pay his respects, and embraced my right shoul- 
der with such ardor of affection, that he had well nigh torn it 
from its socket. I had not thought much of this gentleman's 
powers before ; but he has convinced me of them so thorough- 
ly, that I shall think and speak of them with respect as long 
as I live. Not content with giving me his company all day, 
for a fortnight together, he has insisted on sitting up with me 
every night, and, what is worse, made me sit up too. During 
this time, my poor shoulder, neck, and back, seemed to be a 
place in which the various pains and aches had assembled to 
keep holyday : and the delectable sensations of stinging, prick- 
ing, cutting, lacerating, wrenching, burning, gnawing, &/C., 
succeeded each other, or all mingled together, in a confusion 
that was far from being pleasing. The cross old gentleman, 
though his zeal is somewhat abated by the fomentations, blis- 
ters, &/C., with which we welcomed him, still stands at my back, 
threatening that he will not allow me to finish my letter. — But 
enough of him and his companions. Let me leave them for a 
more pleasing theme. 

** God has mercifully stayed his rough wind in the day of his 
east wind. No horrible, hell-born temptations, no rheumatism 
of the mind has been allowed to visit me in my sufferings ; but 
such consolations, such heavenly visits, as turned agony into 
pleasure, and constrained me to sing aloud, whenever I could 
catch my breath long enough to utter a stanza. Indeed, I 
have been ready to doubt whether pain be really an evil ; for, 
though more pain was crowded into last week, than any other 
week of my life, yet it was one of the happiest weeks I ever 
spent. And now I am ready to say. Come what will come — 
sickness, pain, agony, poverty, loss of friends — only let God 
come with them, and they shall be welcome. Praised, blessed 
forever, be his name, for all my trials and afflictions ! There 
has not been one too many — all were necessary, and good, and 
kind.'' 

How perfectly versed was he in the heavenly art of extract- 
ing the choicest sweets from the bitterest cup ! — ^* honey out of 
the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock." How much anguish 
must such a demeanor under sufferings have saved " the part- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 297 

ners of his blood !" What rare and exquisite enjoyment must 
it have imparted to them, to witness a happiness which the ca- 
lamities of life could not mar ! It was surely an enviable priv- 
ilege to enjoy instructions rendered so emphatical and impres- 
sive by the circumstances of the teacher. 

In another extract may be seen the tender yearnings of a 
father's heart — a heart, nevertheless, in a state of sweet sub- 
jection to '' the Father of spirits, who chasteneth us for our 
profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness :" — 

''Matj 15, ISie. 

'* Your welcome letter, my dear mother, has just arrived. 
You would pity me, if you knew in what circumstances I sit 
down to answer it. For ten days, I have been in what Dr. 
Young calls *^ the post of observation, darker every hour." 
Poor little Caroline lies before me, writhing under the agonies 
of dropsy in the head. The physicians have given her over. 
Louisa sits before me making her shroud ; yet she will proba- 
bly live a week longer; her distress increasing every day, till 
death closes it. I thought that I was almost without natural 
affection ; that I did not love my children ; but I find, to my 
cost, that I do. Her distress wrings every nerve and fibre of 
my heart. If you have ever seen a person die of this dread- 
ful disorder, I need not describe it. If you have not, descrip- 
tion can give you but little idea of it. I am, however, merci- 
fully spared the keener distress of being unreconciled to the 
trial. As yet, I can bless the name of the Lord, and I bless 
him that I can. Whether I shall continue to feel so to the 
end, he only knows. It is painful to see her suffer for my sins. 
It is dreadful to think of having provoked such a being as God 
is, to inflict such sufferings. — But it is right. The affliction is 
too light, as, indeed, every affliction short of eternal death 
would be. I find a great difference between the effect of suf- 
fering in my own person, and in the person of another. Per- 
sonal sufferings seem to harden the heart, and make me selfish, 
so that I can feel little for others. They will drag one's atten- 
tion home to himself But suffering in the person of another 
seems to have an effect directly opposite, and is, therefore, 
more beneficial. I needed some such trial, to teach me how 
to sympathize with my people in similar circumstances.'' 

For more than a week afterwards, he watched this child, 
" struggling between life and death" — the victim of complica- 
ted diseases, the effects of which it would be difficult to de- 
scribe and almost congeal one's blood to read. Yet he was 



298 MEMOIR OF 

calm " as the morning, when the sun ariseth ;'* and, though 
his health was impaired by watching, in addition to his labors, 
he says of this season — ^' It has been, on the whole, a happy 
week. I have been unusually free from spiritual trials ; and 
any thing which frees me from them is a blessing. Be not dis- 
tressed on our account. We are happy, and can sing, ^* sweet 
affliction," &.c. I would not but have had it on any account." 

It will add nothing to the strength of the impression produ- 
ced by these extracts, to say, that he was a most kind and ten- 
der husband, a most faithful and affectionate father ; but it is 
adding something to their import, to affirm that, in him, these 
qualities were uniform, and manifested in his daily intercourse 
with his household. 

He was the companion of his children. Not un frequently 
would he descend, as it were, to their level, and mingle, for a 
few moments, in their pastimes, and even invent new diver- 
sions for them ; particularly such as would call forth exertions of 
skill and ingenuity — so that their very amusements might prove 
a profitable exercise, and contribute to the developement of their 
intellectual faculties. Games of chance, and every thing which 
bore a distant resemblance to them, he utterly disalloAved. He 
delighted to amuse them with pictures ; at the same time pour- 
ing into their minds a knowledge of the arts, or of historical 
characters, or of geographical and statistical facts, or of the 
natural history of animals, or whatever else would be most 
Teadily suggested by the picture. 

Often would he entertain his children, either from the stores 
of his own memory, or from his still richer invention, with 
tales and fables ; from which it was their task to deduce the 
moral, as an exercise of their perceptive and reasoning facul- 
ties, in pay for the entertainment which he had afforded them. 
If they failed, he would, of course, make the application himself 

So far as he exerted himself for the intellectual advance- 
ment of his children, he did it not so much by set lessons, and 
at seasons set apart for that purpose exclusively, as by inci- 
dental instructions. There were many days when his engage- 
ments left him no time to meet them, except at their meals ; 
then — indeed it was his comm.on practice — he would improve 
the time spent at the table for this purpose — proposing various 
questions, and inviting inquiries from them, always leaving 
them with a subject for consideration, and often calling upon 
them at night, to mention any new idea which they might have 
acquired during the day. He was much devoted to the welfare 
of his children ; and his cares, burdens and maladies, were op- 
pressive indeed, when they did not share a father's attentions. 



EDWARD PAVSON. 299 

To instruct them in religion, was, of course, his first care. 
Here, also, he wisely consulted their age and capacities, and 
imparted it, in measure and kind, as they were able to bear. 
He doubted the expediency of giving religious instruction only 
at stated periods, and dealing it out with parade and formality, 
and in tedious addresses. His motto was — " Line upon line, 
precept upon precept ; here a little, and there a little," as oc- 
casion offered, or the emergency demanded. 

But he was master, as well as father ; ^^ one that ruled well 
his own house, having his children in subjection with all grav- 
ity." He habitually explained his commands to such of his 
children as were of sufficient age to understand and appreciate 
them ; and always referred to the Scriptures, as the umpire 
from whose decisions there was no appeal. " The Bible says 
thus," was the invariable and ultimate argument for enforc- 
ing obedience. Appeals of this kind contribute greatly to in- 
spire an early reverence for the sacred book. It was a willing 
obedience, and from exalted principles, which he aimed to 
secure. 

He treated his servants as fellow creatures — as if he believ- 
ed, that ' God made of one blood all the people that dwell upon 
the earth' — as if he expected to stand with them at the bar, 
where *' he shall have judgment without mercy, who hath 
showed no mercy." They shared his religious instructions, 
and were remembered in his prayers. He also exacted of his 
children, as an inviolable duty, kind and considerate treat- 
ment towards the domestics. To several of them his counsels 
and prayers were blessed. To one, who had been anxious for 
her own salvation in consequence of his previous fidelity, and 
apparently lost her impressions, he affectionately said, as she 
entered the parlor, bearing a pitcher of water — " I hope the 
time may never come, when you will long for a drop of that 
water to cool your tongue." It was a word in season — she 
became a Christian. Another was about to leave his family 
for a gay circle, with the prospect of entering a new relation, 
from which he apprehended danger to her soul. At family 
prayer, the last time she was expected to be present, he pray- 
ed that the separation might not be eternal. The petition 
was remembered ; she soon returned to her service in his 
family, exhibited evidence of conversion, and afterwards died 
in faith.— ^This tenderness involved no sacrifice of dignity or 
authority on his part ; nor did it cause insubordination on the 
part of servants, but, in most cases, a more willing and faithful 
service. 



300 MEMOIR OF 

In his family devotions he was never tedious. They vi^ere 
always impressive, and adapted with surprising appropriateness 
to the existing circumstances of the household. He delighted 
to address Jehovah through Christ, as his God, by covenant; 
and hence he derived some of those powerful arguments which 
he pleaded in intercession for his children, and one strong 
ground of hope that God would convert and save them. 

To obtain any adequate conception of the manner in 
which God was acknowledged and honored in his habitation, 
recourse must be had, as in other instances, to his own lan- 
guage : — 

" April, 1816. 

• " Another precious passage is that in Zechariah, '^ In 

that day shall there be upon the bells of the horses. Holiness to 
the hord^^ &lc. I preached on it lately, and, among other 
things, observed, that, in that day, every action would be per- 
formed as the most solemn religious duties are now ; every 
house and place would be a temple ; every day like a Sab- 
bath ; and every meal like the Lord's supper. We have since 
been trying to have the prophecy fulfilled at our house ; and, 
though we succeed miserably enough, yet the bare attempt has 
given us a happiness unknown before. One thing, which has 
been greatly blessed to us, is, having family prayer at noon, 
as well as morning and evening. It showed us how far we 
often get from God during the day, even when we begin and 
close it with him. In some families, this would be impossi- 
ble ; and then half an hour spent alone would answer the pur- 
pose as well. I find it requires almost constant rubbing and 
chafing to make the blood circulate in such frozen souls as 
ours; and, after all, it avails nothing, if the Sun of Righteous- 
ness does not shine." 

Dr. Payson was the father of eight children, two of whom, 
a son and a daughter, he followed to the grave. Six survive 
him, two daughters and four sons. 

Many persons were honored with a large share of Dr. Pay- 
son's confidence ; but it is very doubtful whether he ever 
poured out all the feelings of his bosom to any beyond his 
nearest relations, if, indeed, he did to any besides his God. 
It required a reach of sympathy beyond what man is ordinari- 
ly capable of exercising, to enter deeply into his experience. 
He could not bring himself to tell of the peculiar agonies or 
raptures, which by turns tortured and blessed him, to any 



EDV/ARD PAYSON. ^1 

heart that could not send back a response. And where, al 
most, could that heart be found ? And in this, the writer, 
while tracing his religious experience, has often thought he 
was justified by the example of Paul, after his rapture. Still, 
while there were secrets in his own bosom of too sacred a char- 
acter to be made common by participation, his intercourse with 
his flock, individually, was that of a highly endearing, tender, 
and confidential friendship. ** If there were ever a minister" 
— these are his own words—" blessed with a kind and faithful 
people, I am. If I were not so often sick, I should be too happy. 
When I come into my congregation, I feel as a feither, sur- 
rounded by his children, I do not feel as though there were an 
ill disposed person among them. I can throw off my armor with- 
out fearing that an enemy is there with a dagger ready to stab 
me." Their affection v/as most fully and faithfully reciprocat- 
ed. Never did a minister more ardently love his charge, or 
enter with greater facility into all their interests and feelings: 
When any of them were visited with calamity, he was among 
the very first to tender his sympathy ; and always left them 
** lightened," In listening to his conversation and prayers, 
the burden would often fall off. 

'^ Beside the bed where parlhig life was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed," 

he was at once faithful and tender ; and if 

" Despair and anguish fled the stiiiggling soul," 

it was because it had been pointed to the ' smitten Rock,' to 
the " Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world." 

^' Comfort c-amt down, the trembling wretch to raise, 
And his last faltering accents whispered praise," 

He was eminently susceptible of gratitude. A favor, which 
would be received with a very summary acknowledgment by 
many, would make his *' shoulders ache under the load of ob- 
ligation that was laid upon them." And if he ' bore it pretty 
well, it was because nothing renders a man so careless about 
increasing his debts, as the consciousness that he shall never 
be able to pay.' 

Economy was a very noticeable feature in his character. 
It was a principle with him to spend nothing merely for orna- 
ment. The money which came into his possession he regard- 
ed as a talent for which he was accountable ; and so scru- 
pulous was he, as to the disposition which he made of it, 
that he is thought to have regarded some things as forbidden 
26 



302 MEMOIR OF 

luxuries, which would have been for his welfare. In his fur- 
niture, in his apparel, and that of his household, and in the 
provisions of his table, there was a plainness and a simplicity 
well becoming a man professing and teaching godliness. 
Connected with this quality was a noble generosity of soul. 
He did not save to hoard, but to bless others. He did not 
love money for its own sake ; and so obvious to all was his 
disinterestedness, that, so far as is known, he never fell under 
the charge or even the suspicion of being avaricious. If the 
temporal or spiritual necessities of his fellow creatures de- 
manded relief, his money was as free for their use as a cup of 
cold water. He had declined purchasing an article of conve- 
nience for the family one morning, because, as it was not ab- 
solutely necessary, he thought they could not afford it. The 
same day, he gave ten dollars to a woman in reduced circum- 
stances, who called at his house. At another time, he said to 
his church, who had handed in their contribution of fifty or 
sixty dollars, for foreign missions — *' I am ashamed to send so 
small a sum, and shall forward one hundred dollai*s, as your 
contribution ; and you may act your pleasure about indemni- 
fying me.'' These are only instances out of a multitude ; the 
same liberality characterized him as long as he lived. He 
continued to give, till after he was unable to put his name to a 
subscription paper. It was with reluctance that he received 
from his people what they were forward to give as a compen- 
sation for his services ; and for two successive years, he actu- 
ally relinquished four hundred dollars. He never would have 
possessed a dwelling-house in fee, if his people had waited for 
his consent. Acting according to the impulse of their own libe- 
rality, and their convictions of what was due to him, in return 
for the sums which he had relinquished, they purchased, and 
secured to him by deed, a house more spacious than he would 
have chosen ; and this was all his property, beyond actual ex- 
penditures, which he did not give away. 

In this connexion a document will be introduced, contain- 
ing a request, such as it would be equally honorable to minis- 
ters and people, if there were more frequent occasion for : — 

" To the members of the Second Parish in Portland, in parish 
meeting assembled — 

"GENTLEMEN; 

" It is a circumstance which claims my thankful acknowledg- 
ments, and of which I hope ever to retain a grateful recollection, 
that, while many ministers are constrained to ask, and, perhaps, 
ask in vain, for an increase of salary, the only request relative to 



EDWARD PAYSON. 30g 

a support, which I have ever had occasion to present to you, is, 
that my salary may be diminished. Such a request, you will 
recollect, I made, through the medium of one of the parish, at 
your last annual meeting; but your kindness and liberality 
prevented you from complying with it. I now repeat that re- 
quest in writing. The salary which you voted me at the time 
of my settlement, is amply sufficient for my support ; and more 
than this I am unwilling to receive ; for I can never consent 
to acquire wealth by preaching the gospel of Christ. Permit 
me, then, respectfully, but earnestly, to request that the addi- 
tion which you have so generously made to my salary, the last 
two years, may be discontinued. 

" That the Master whom I serve may repay all your kind- 
ness to his servant, is the first wish and most earnest prayer of 
" Your deeply indebted and grateful pastor, 

" Edward Payson." 

*' Portland J AprUTl, 1821.'' 

In the same spirit, after his last sickness had made such 
inroads upon his strength, as almost wholly to disqualify him 
for exertion, he dictated the following communication : — 

"April 27, 1827. 

" To the members of the Second Congregational Church in 
Portland, in parish meeting assembled — 

^^ Brethren and Friends, 

" Of the kindness and generosity with which you have inva- 
riably treated me, ever since I became your pastor, and espe- 
cially since the commencement of my present indisposition, I 
am deeply sensible. Nor have you given me the smallest 
reason to suppose, that your kindness is exhausted, or even 
diminished. But I must not allow myself to encroach upon it 
too far. It is my indispensable duty to prefer your spiritual 
welfare to every personal consideration. If I have reason to 
believe that your religious interests would be promoted by a 
dissolution of the connexion between us, it is incumbent on 
me to request, that it may be dissolved ; and to retire from a 
station, the duties of which I am no longer able to perform. 
And have I not reason to believe that such is the fact ? With 
the present state of my health you are sufficiently acquainted. 
It has already occasioned you much trouble and expense. 
You have waited a reasonable time for its restoration ; and 
the probability that it will ever be restored, is by no means 
great. It is highly important that such a society as this 



304 MEMOIR OF 

should enjoy the services of a minister who possesses a vig^ 
orous constitution, firm health, and ministerial qualifications of 
the first order; and the salary which it gives entitles it to 
expect, and will enable it to command, the services of such a 
minister. In view of these circumstances, I feel a prevailing 
persuasion, that it is my duty to propose a dissolution of the 
connexion between us, and to request you to unite with me 
in calling a council for the purpose of dissolving it. Such a 
proposition and request I now submit to you. 

" That on this and every other occasion you may be guided 
by that wisdom which is from above, and led to the adoption 
of such measures as shall be most conducive to the glory of 
God, and your own best interests, is the prayer of 
^' Your affectionate friend and pastor, 

*^ Edward Payson." 

This request was received and treated in a manner most 
honorable to the parish. Their reply to it expressed the most 
* deep and affectionate sympathy with their much esteemed 
pastor, and a sense of their high obligations for the very valu- 
able services, which a kind Providence had permitted and en- 
abled him to perform for a long course of years ; and, appreci- 
ating, his present services, much as they were interrupted and 
curtailed by sickness, of paramount value and interest to them, 
they did respectfully solicit that he would be pleased to with- 
draw his request ; and thus permit them to hope, that, whatever 
might be the state of his health in future, they should enjoy 
the benefit of his counsel and prayers, till he was called to 
receive the reward prepared for the faithful servants of Christ/ 
— With these wishes, so affectionately and gratefully expressed, 
he complied ; and continued, in such ways as he could, to 
advance their spiritual interests, till removed by the undoubted 
will of God. 

But there are, in the lives of eminently faithful ministers, 
events of another character, which it is painful to narrate, and 
yet which ought not to be passed over in silence. The hostil- 
ity which they sometimes experience, illustrates the depravity 
of mankind, and confirms the authority of Scripture by evincing 
the truth of the declaration, — " If any man will live godly in 
Christ Jesus, he shall suffer persecution.^' We need not be 
surprised, therefore, that Dr. Pay son should have been wick- 
edly assailed in his character, as a preacher of a kindred spirit 
was assailed before him. It is related of Richard Baxter, that 
when he was shaking the strong holds of error and iniquity at 
Kidderminster, a drunken slanderer reported concerning him. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 3Q5 

that he had been seen under a tree with a profligate woman ; 
and thus he was made " the song of the drunkards." But the 
defamer, being brought into court, was obliged to explain, that 
he had only seen Mr. Baxter, on a rainy day, on horseback, 
under an oak, which grew in a hedge, while a woman was 
standing for shelter on the other side of the hedge. — A still 
heavier charge had been brought against one of his predeces- 
sors at Kidderminster, the Rev. John Cross. A wicked woman 
had been hired to bring the charge ; but Mr. Cross, at her 
examination, placed himself amongst the magistrates, dressed 
as they were ; and when she was asked, if one of them was 
the man, she looked at them, and said. No; and thus her mal- 
ice was defeated. 

A wicked woman once brought against Dr. Pay son an ac- 
cusation, under circumstances which seemed to render it im- 
possible that he should escape. She was in the same packet, 
in which, many months before, he had gone to Boston. For 
a time, it seemed almost certain that his character would be 
ruined. He was cut off fr^m all resource, except the throne 
of grace. He felt that his only help was in God ; and to him 
he addressed his fervent prayer. He was heard by the De- 
fender of the innocent. A * compunctious visiting' induced 
the v/retched woman to confess that the whole was a malicious 
slander. 

He was such ** a terror to evil doers," that they seemed bent 
on destroying his reputation ; and multiplied their malicious 
slanders, till they ceased to gain any credence even with the 
vilest. *^ It canH be true," said an opposer, respecting a base 
calumny of Dr. Payson. " No," said another ; " but I would 

give dollars, if it were." When these cruel and malicious 

designs upon his character proved abortive, their enmity mani- 
fested itself in other forms. He once alludes to this opposition 
in his letters. It was in a year eminently distinguished by 
God's blessing on his labors : — 

'' July 4, 1S16. 

" Enemies rage most terribly. You have probably 

seen in the papers an account of the attempt to burn our 
meeting-house. We have not discovered the author ; but 

there is no doubt that are at the bottom of it. It 

was little less than a miracle, that the house was not burnt, 
with many others. Never, since I have been here, has the 
enmity of the heart been permitted to rage as it does now. 
Every one, except my own people, seems ready to curse me; 
and I am weary of living in continual strife." 
26* 



305 MEMOIR OF 

The good man at length found rest from this strife. He 
came out of every trial untarnished — ^yea, the brighter for the 
ordeal. No charge could be sustained against him, but such 
as was urged against the prophet in Babylon ; and the ultimate 
issue was not, perhaps, essentially different. It was increased 
respect for him, and veneration for his God. 



L 



EDWARD PAYSON. 397 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Further particulars relating to his personal history, and re- 
ligious exercises, in connexion with his pastoral labors and 
their results. 

It was not thought desirable to interrupt a description of 
" the pastor in action," by frequent references to dates ; or to 
pay any special regard to chronological order in a rehearsal of 
scenes and employments, which were more or less common to 
every year of his ministry. In this chapter, however, that or- 
der is resumed for the purpose of continuing the history of his 
religious experience through the various occurrences and vicis- 
situdes of his life. The particulars will be given almost entirely 
in his own language, and in insulated extracts, which will be 
found, however, to possess the principal advantages of a con- 
nected narrative, besides several others, which no second-hand 
statements could secure. They were sketched at the time, 
and have the vividness of first impressions in view of truths 
and facts, as they were successively brought under notice, 
while the circumstances in which they were penned are a suf- 
ficient guarantee of their accuracy. The articles of intelligence 
and modes of elucidating and enforcing truth, which are in- 
terspersed, will enhance their value ; while they will enable the 
reader to view the subject of this Memoir in a greater variety 
of attitudes, and to learn his exercises and feelings in numerous 
circumstances — in prosperity, and under the rod ; when borne 
along on the full tide of success, and when thwarted at every 
step ; when religion was triumphant, and when *' the ways of 
Zion mourned." 



'' Portland, June 14, 1813. 
'♦My dear Mother, 

" We arrived here last Friday, in safety, and found every 
thing had been preserved by our merciful Protector. We 
very soon had reason to acknowledge how much his protection 
is superior to ours ; for, the very night after our return, our 
garden was laid waste. 

" For a few days after my return, I was exceedingly unwell, 
and there seemed less prospect of my continuing in the ministry 



308 MEMOIR OF 

than ever. In addition, I was more severely exercised with 
spiritual trials than I have been for two years past; so that 
the five days succeeding my return were, perhaps, as dark as 
any five days that I ever experienced. But now, blessed be 
God, the scene has wonderfully changed. For three days, I 
have felt something more like health than I have enjoyed for 
years ; something of that spring and elasticity of spirit, which 
used to render life tolerable, and exertion pleasant. How long 
it will continue, I know not. It seems too good to last. I see, 
however, already, that if the burden of sickness is to be removed, 
some other burden, perhaps a worse one, must be imposed in 
its place. I am ready to run wild with the pleasure of not 
feeling pain ; though, even now, I am not altogether free from 
it. — If my health should be restored, I shall consider it as lit- 
tle less than a miracle ; and shall feel as if your deafness may 
be removed. Indeed, I think it will strengthen my faith as 
much as it will ray body. It will also remove some spiritual 
difficulties and doubts, which have been a terrible hinderance 
to me in my race, and given unbelief more advantage over me 
than all other things united. — But how I ramble ! 

*' We have little encouraging of a religious nature, though the 
church are, I believe, much engaged. They ought to be ; for 
I find that *^ Portland Christians" have, at least, a name to live 
at the westward ; a better name, I fear, than they will ere long 
deserve, even if they merit it now.'' 

'' Sept. 12, 1814. 

I engaged to go on a mission, if my people would 



consent ; but they will not hear of it. The church would con- 
sent, but the parish will not. You will learn from the news- 
papers, that we are in a state of alarm here, or I should say 
nothing of it. Ever since our return, the streets have been fill- 
ed with wagons, &c., carrying goods out of town, and the alarm 
continues and increases. We had hoped to have a quiet Sab- 
bath yesterday ; but, in the morning, the chairman of the 
committee of public safety called and informed me, that the 
committee had issued a handbill, requiring all the male citi- 
zens to work, through the day, on the fortifications, and stating 
that the usual religious services of the day must be dispensed 
with. With this order our church absolutely refused to com- 
ply, and we had divine service both parts of the day, as usual, 
and a considerably large congregation. This morning, all is 
bustle and confusion through the town. We have sent a few 
things to Gorham ; and, in case of an attack, we can pack into 
the chaise and follow. You have no reason to entertain the 



EDWARD PAVSON, 30^ 

s.::^tL Jest fears for our personal safety. In ten minutes after 
an alarm is given, we can be safe out of town. — The church 
seem to feel in some measure as I could wish. Strong confi- 
dence in God, mingled with a deep sense of ill-desert, and sub- 
mission to his will, is displayed by them. They have a prayer 
meeting every evening ; and, next Thursday, if circumstances 
permit, we are to have a fast. At our house, all is still and 
quiet. We hear little of the noise, and have slept undisturbed 
every night till the last. — I cannot think we are in much dan- 
ger. Not that great dependence is to be placed in our means 
of defence; but I cannot think God means to destroy this 
place. We needed something to rouse us, and to remind us 
that we were engaged in war, and to excite us to pray for the 
removal of God's judgments ; and this effect the alarm has, I 
trust, produced. It tends powerfully to wean us from the world ; 
so that, thus far, it has been a mercy." 

« Nov. 14, 1814. 

•" We are going on as well as can be expected. L. is 



well ; little L. better than for a year past ; my own health 
slowly, but gradually, improving. Our souls, too, I hope, are 
not quite so far from prospering and being in health as they 
have been ; the church are reviving, and there are many hope- 
ful appearances in the parish. But the best of all is, that we 
seem to be waking up in this part of the cowatry, as well as in 
others, to the state of public morals. Delegates from nineteen 
towns in this vicinity met in this town last week, and adopted 
a number of measures to secure the proper observance of the 
Sabbath. A similar meeting for the county of Lincoln is to 
be held this week at Wiscasset. These thins^s, and others of 
a similar nature, of which I hear abroad, almost lead me to cry, 
with old Simeon-—" Let thy servant depart in peace, for mine 
eyes have seen thy salvation !'' We shall yet see peace upon 
our IsraQl ; and I have very little doubt, that, after the war ceas- 
es, we shall have greater revivals through the land than we 
have ever yet seen. It was harder to do what has been done, 
both in the world and among jas, than to do what remains. 
The wheel is now in motion, and will be kept so with com- 
parative ease. It is a glorious day to live in 1 So much to 
be done ; so much to be prayed for ; so much to be seen. I 
was wrong in saying, I wished to depart in peace. I wish to 
stay, and see, and do a little more. I would not now exchange 
a place in the church below, even for a place in heaven. The 
longer our time of labor is, the better. There will be time 
enough for rest. 



3i0 MEMOIR OF 

" Dr. ' died last week. I saw him repeatedly during 

his illness ; but not a word of a religious nature did he utter ; 
and, I am told, he said as little to others. He was a minister 
upwards of fifty years. What a meeting it must be, when a 
pastor meets all who have died under his ministry, during so 
many years; especially, if he has never faithfully warned 
them ! 

" Our people feel the consequences of the war very much. 
I am astonished to see how well they continue to pay my salary ; 
and still more, to see how liberally they give to every proper 
object. Their deep poverty serves to set off the riches of their 
liberality. If they were like many congregations, I should 
soon be turned out. Many, however, have moved away, on 
account of the war ; and if it continues, the rest must follow. 
However, we serve a good Master ; and while he has work for 
us to do, he will feed us. I rejoice to learn, that you find 
** the joy of the Lord your strength." It is strength indeed. I 
.hope my father finds as much reason to rejoice in the progress 
of reformation in New Hampshire, as we do here." 

"/Mne2, 1815. 
I shall not be able to visit Rindge this summer. 



Journeying does me so little good, and I have been absent so 
long, that I shall not dare to think of it at present. Were it 
possible, I would come about the time of the ordination of the 
missionaries, at Newburyport, to which our church is invited ; 
but I fear it will not be. 

" I am sorry for poor ; but my sorrow is mitigated, if 

not removed, by reflecting, that if he is a Chrisuan, all things 
are working for his good ; and if he is not, an education will do 
him more harm than good. I have grown quite hard-hearted, 
as it respects the trials of Christians. I scarcely pity them at 
all, while under the rod, though I am sorry we all need it so 
much. However, I sympathize with you, my dear mother, in 
your want of hearing. It is a grievous trial ; and if, as you 
intimate, frequent letters would in any degree mitigate it, I 
will strive to write oftener. — Intrust our revival has not ceased ; 
though it will not, I fear, prove so extensive as I at first 
hoped." 

'' Sept. 1, 1815. 

" Do not feel anxious about me. I am, you know, in 

good hands — in better hands than yours ; and, when you con- 
sider how good God has been to me, you can have no reason 
to fear that he will deal with me otherwise than well. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 31 J 

" I have little to write, respecting our situation in a religious 
view, that is encouraging ; but things look promising in many 
other places at a distance. You have heard of the revivals at 
Litchfield and New Haven. An account of these revivals 
read in Rowley, has occasioned the commencement of a sim- 
ilar work there, which promises to become extensive. There 

is also considerable attention among the students in 

Academy ; and a letter, which I have just received from a gen- 
tleman in Baltimore, informs me that there is a revival in an 
academy in that vicinity, and in two or three other places. 
It certainly appears more and more probable, that God is about 
to work wonders in most of our seminaries of learning ; 
and, if so, who can calculate the blessed effects which will 
be the result ? 

** The revolution in Dartmouth College makes a great noise 
here. Losing Mr. Brown will be a grievous blow to me. I 
think the trustees could hardly have made a better choice.'' 

On perusing the following, it is difficult to repress a wish 
that the writer had been under the necessity of ** fitting up a 
house " every year : — 

''Tortland, Nov. I, 1815. 
'' My dear Mother, 

** I fear you will think me very negligent in delaying so long 
to answer your letter ; but I have an excuse ready. We have 
been moving, and repairing our house, and I have been almost 
incessantly engaged, night and day. We have had half a 
score of workmen in the house, and I have been obliged to 
superintend and work with them ; and this, in addition to 
parochial duties, has so hurried me, that I have scarcely had 
time to eat. You will be glad to hear that my cares and la- 
bors have had a very beneficial effect, with respect to my 
health, so that I have gained more in fourteen days than in as 
many months previous. I have also enjoyed a much higher 
degree of spiritual health than usual, and have had many spe- 
cial mercies, both of a temporal and religious nature ; so that 
1 have seldom passed six happier weeks than the last. Our 
house proves much more convenient than we expected, and 
we have seen much of the wisdom and goodness of God in 
bringing us into it. It is the same house in which I formerly 
boarded when preceptor — in which I spent some months in 
folly and sin, and in which I received the news of Charles's 
death, and began to turn my attention to religion. These 
circumstances give it an interest of a peculiar kind, and fur- 



312 MEMOIR OP 

nish matter for many humbling, many mournful, and not a 
few thankful and profitable reflections. O what a Master do 
I serve ! I have known nothing, felt nothing, all my days, 
even in comparison with what I now see in him. Never was 
preaching such sweet work as it is now. Never did the world 
seem such a nothing. Never did heaven appear so near, so 
sweet, so overwhelmingly glorious. . . . God's promises ap- 
pear so strong, so solid, so real, so substantial, — more so than 
the rocks and everlasting hills ; and his perfections, — what 
shall I say of them ? When I think of one, I wish to dwell 
upon it forever ; but another, and another, equally glorious, 
claims a share of admiration ; and, when I begin to praise, I 
wish never to cease, but have it the commencement of that 
song which will never end. Very often have I felt as if I 
could that moment throw off the body without staying to * first 
go and bid them farewell that are at home in my house.' Let 
who will be rich, or admired, or prosperous ; it is enough for 
me that there is such a God as Jehovah, such a Saviour as 
Jesus, and that they are infinitely and unchangeably glorious 
and happy." 

The year 1816 was the most remarkably distinguished for 
the effusions of the Holy Spirit on his people, of any year of 
his ministry, with the exception of that in which his happy 
spirit took its flight, when he preached so much from the bed 
of death. This fact the reader will regard as a striking com- 
mentary on the subjoined extracts from his diary :— 

" Dec, 16. Since the last date, I have passed through a 
greater variety of scenes and circumstances than in almost 
any period of equal length in my whole life, and have ex- 
perienced severer sufferings, conjflicts, and disappointments. 
Some time in February, I began to hope for a revival ; and, 
after much prayer for direction, and, as I thought, with confi- 
dence in God, I took some extraordinary, and perhaps impru- 
dent,^ measures to hasten it. But the event did not answer 
my expectations at all ; and, in consequence, I was thrown 
into a most violent commotion, and was tempted to think God 
unkind and unfaithful. For some weeks, I could not think 
of my disappointment with submission. There were many 
aggravating circumstances attending it, which rendered it in- 
comparably the severest disappointment, and, of course, the 
most trying temptation, I had ever met with. It injured my 

* Sec Chapter XIV. 



* EDWARD PAYSON. 3I3 

health to such a degree, that I was obliged to spend the sum* 
mer in journeying, to recover my health. This, however, did 
not avail, and I returned worse than I went away, and plunged 
in the depths of discouragement. Was obliged, sorely against 
my will, to give up my evening lectures, and to preach old 
sermons. After a while, however, my health began to return, 
though very slowly. God was pleased to revisit me, and to 
raise me up out of the horrible pit and miry clay, in which I 
had so long lain ; and my gratitude for this mercy far exceed- 
ed all I felt at my first conversion. Sin never appeared so 
odious, nor Christ so precious, before. Soon after this, my 
hopes of a revival began to return. About a month since, 
very favorable appearances were seen, and my endeavors to 
rouse the church seemed to be remarkably blessed. My whole 
soul was gradually wrought up to the highest pitch of eager 
expectation and desire ; I had great assistance in observing a 
day of fasting and prayer ; the annual thanksgiving was bless- 
ed in a very remarkable and surprising manner, both to my- 
self and the church. From these and many other circumstan- 
ces, i was led to expect, very confidently, that the next Sab- 
bath, which was our communion, would be a glorious day, and 
that Christ would then come to convert the church a second 
time, and prepare them for a great revival. I had great free- 
dom in prayer, both on Saturday night and Sabbath morning ; 
and, after resigning, professedly, the whole matter to God, and 
telling him that, if he should disappoint us, it would be all 
right, I went to meeting. But what a disappointment awaited 
me ! I was more straitened than for a year before ; it was a 
very dull day, both to myself and the church ; all my hopes 
seemed dashed to the ground at once, and I returned home in 
an agony not to be described. Instead of vanquishing Satan, 
I was completely foiled and led captive by him ; all my hopes 
of a revival seemed blasted, and I expected nothing but a rep- 
etition of the same conflicts and sufierings which I had en- 
dured after my disappointment last spring, and which I dread- 
ed a thousand times worse than death. Hence my mind was 
exceedingly imbittered. But, though the storm was sudden 
and violen-t, it was short. My insulted, abused Master pitied 
and prayed for me, that my faith might not fail ; and there- 
fore, after Satan had been permitted to sift me as wheat, I was 
delivered out of his power ; and, strange as it even now ap- 
pears to me, repentance and pardon were given me, and I was 
taken, with greater kindness than ever, to the bosom of that 
Saviour whom I had so insulted. Nor was this all ; the trial 
was beneficial to me. It showed me the selfishness of my 
27 



314 ' MEMOIR OF 

prayers for a revival, and my self-deception in thinking I was 
willing to be disappointed, if God pleased. It convinced me 
that I was not yet prepared for such a blessing, and that much 
more wisdom and grace were necessary to enable me to con- 
duct a revival properly, than I had ever imagined before. On 
the whole, though the past year has been one of peculiar trial 
and suffering, I have reason to hope it has not been unprofita- 
ble, and that I have not suffered so many things altogether in 
vain. I have seen more of myself and of Christ than I ever 
saw before ; and can, at times, feel more of the frame describ- 
ed in Ezekiel xvi. 63, than I ever expected to feel a year 
since. The gospel way of salvation appears much more glori- 
ous and precious, and sin more hateful. I can see, supposing 
a revival is to come, that it was a great mercy to. have it so 
long delayed. My hopes, that it will yet come, are perhaps 
as strong as ever, but my mind is on the rack of suspense, and 
I can scarcely support the conflict of mingled anxieties, de- 
sires and expectations. Meanwhile, appearances are every 
week more favorable, the heavens are covered with clouds, and 
some drops have already fallen. Such are the circumstances 
in which I commence the ninth year of my ministry ; and 
surely never did my situation call more loudly for fasting and 
prayer than now. 

" In the preceding sketch of the past year, I have said little 
of my own wickedness, or of God's goodness ; for, indeed, I 
know not what to say. The simple statements which I have 
made of facts, speak more loudly in favor of Christ, and against 
myself, than any thing else can do. I used to think that re- 
pentance and confession bore some small proportion to my 
sins ; but now there seems to be no more proportion between 
them than between finite and infinite. I can see that I once 
trusted much to my repentance; but now my repentance 
seems one of my worst sins, on account of its exceeding im- 
perfection. 

" For an hour or two, I have enjoyed as much assistance as 
I usually do on such occasions ; but I see more and more 
how exceedingly little there is of spirituality in my best affec- 
tions. Imagination, natural affections, and self-love, compose 
by much the largest part of my experiences. Indeed, I can 
scarcely discover any thing else. It is like a fire just kindled ; 
much smoke, some blaze, but little heat. I have been pray- 
ing, more than I ever did before, for more spiritual affec- 
tion and clearer views ; but as yet my gracious God does not 
answer my request. But he knows best, and with him I can 
leave it. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 3I5 

** Was favored, while reading Owen on the Hebrews, with 
new and unusually clear views of many things respecting our 
Saviour's sufferings, which filled me with wonder and delight. 
O, how little have I known, how little do I still know, of the 
great mystery of godliness ! In the evening, hoped I felt 
something of what the apostle calls travailing in birth for 
souls. I was in such a state of mind as I cannot well de- 
scribe, but it seemed to be almost insupportable. 

*' Dec. 17. Had a most sweet, refreshing season in prayer 
last night. The unsearchable riches seemed opened to me, 
to take as much as I pleased. Had great liberty in pray- 
ing for a revival ; and could scarcely give over the blessed 
work, though much exhausted. This morning, was in the 
same frame. Was especially affected and delighted with the 
proof of love which he required from Peter, ^^ Feed my sheep." 
Prayed that I might be enabled to feed them this day. Went 
to the house of God with more of such a frame as I wished 
than usual. I have hitherto had no liberty in praying for a 
revival in public. However much I might feel at home, it was 
taken from me as soon as I entered the meetincr-house. But 
to-day my fetters were taken off. I could pray for nothing but 
a revival. 

** Dpx. 18. Felt unusually oppressed with a sense of the 
wisdom and grace necessary to conduct a revival ; but was 
enabled to trust in God to supply my wants. Spent the even- 
ing with Christian friends. Prayed for a blessing on the visit, 
and found it a sweet season. After my return, had a most 
refreshing and delightful season in prayer. Had no longer 
the least doubt of a revival, and my joy was unspeaka- 
ble. Continued sweetly meditating and praying, till I fell 
asleep. 

" Dec. 19. New joys, new praises. Had a most ravishing 
view of Christ this morning, as coming at a distance in the 
chariot of his salvation. In an instant he was with me, and 
around me; and I could only cry. Welcome! welcome! a 
thousand times welcome to my disconsolate heart, and to thy 
widowed church ! O, joy unspeakable and full of glory 1 — 
while seeing him not, I feel and believe his presence. Spent 
the evening with the church, after much prayer, both alone and 
with others, that Christ would meet and bless us. Went to 
meeting trembling, and my fears were realized. I was en- 
tirely deserted, had nothing to say, and was obliged to leave 
them abruptly. They sat.stupid awhile, after I left them, and 
then separated. This was a sore trial. Impatience and sel^ 
wiU struggled hard for leave to say something against Christ ; 



31G MEMOIK OF 

but I was enabled to Ree to the throne of grace, and found 
relief. One thing is certain. I have no direct promise that 
there shall be a revival ; but I have a thousand direct, posi- 
tive assiirances that Christ is faithful, and wise, and kind. 
This, therefore, faith will believe, whatever becomes of my 
hopes and wishes ; and it is evidently absurd to profess to trust 
in God for what he has not expressly promised, while I do not 
believe his positive assurances. 

" Dec. 24. Enjoyed great nearness to Christ in family 
prayer. Seemed to feel a perfect union with him, and to love, 
with a most intense love, every thing that is dear to him. 
Christians seemed inexpressibly dear to me, and I loved to 
pray for them as for myself But, O, where have I been ? 
and what have I been doing all my days ? How terribly blind 
and ignorant of religion have I been ! and now I know noth- 
ing, feel nothing as I ought. Saw that there is incomparably 
more to be known and felt in religion than I ever thought of 
before. What a pity, that I have lost so many of the best 
years of my life in contented ignorance ; and what would I 
not give for the years 1 have lost. I never can be humbled 
sufficiently for my indolence. As it respects a revival, I feel 
easy. My anxiety has subsided into a settled calm, aris- 
ing from a full persuasion that Christ will come and save 
us. 

" Dec. 30. Was greatly assisted in praying for a revival, 
and felt almost a full assurance that it would be granted^ 
Felt sweetly melted, and almost overpowered with a sense 
of God's sovereign, unmerited love. Could not forbear saying 
to him, that he ought not to save such a guilty creature ; or, 
at least, ought not to employ me, and bless my labors ; but he 
seemed to reply, with great power and majesty, ** I will have 
mercy on whom I will have mercy. ^' Could not but submit, 
that it should be so. Never did the sovereignty of God ap- 
pear so sweet as then. Spent paii; of the evening in religious 
conversation with my/domestics. 

*^ Jan. 4, 1816. Preached the evening lecture without 
much sensible assistance. After meeting, one of the church 
informed me, that in the afternoon a man, (who had formerly 
been one of the first merchants in town,) once a professor, but 
who has been for many years an apostate, and bitter enemy to 
religion, came to him apparently much distressed respecting 
his salvation ; and that the same man was at lecture. This 
good news filled us with joy and triumph, so that all doubts 
of a revival seemed removed. O, I wanted, even then, 
tr begin my eternal song ; and excess of happiness became 



EDWARD PAYSON. 



317 



almost painful. Could scarcely sleep for joy, though much 
fatigued. 

** Jan. 5. Had similar views and feelings this morning, but 
jess vivid. Took a review of God's dealings with me, and of my 
own exercises respecting the revival. Saw infinite wisdom and 
goodness in every thing that God has done, and could not but 
admire and praise. As to my feelings, though they seemed little 
better than a mass of pride, and selfishness, and impatience, 
yet I could not but see that there was some real faith under 
all, which God had accepted. Afterwards, however, reflect- 
ing on the feelings of papists towards their saints, and pagans 
towards their idols, I was led to doubt whether I had exercis- 
ed any reaJ faith at all. Attended a fast. Endeavored to 
convince the church how polluted the conference room must 
be in the sight of God, in consequence of the sins which had 
been committed there. Then made a confession of them, and 
prayed that it might be cleansed. Then did the same with 
respect to our closets, and houses, and afterwards the house 
of God, and the communion table. Then read and expound- 
ed the new covenant, and showed what was meant by taking 
hold of it. Finished by imploring all the blessings of this cov- 
enant on the church, and praying for a revival. 

'' Jan. 7. Sabbath. Had no freedom either in prayer or 
preaching, and the congregation appeared uncommonly stupid. 
Concluded that there was to be no revival under me. Was 
exceedingly distressed, but felt no disposition to murmur, or 
be impatient. Withdrew to my chamber, to weep and pray. 
It seemed clear, that I was the great obstacle to a revival. 
I have not " rendered again according to the benefit done 
unto me, but my heart has been lifted up ; therefore is there 
wrath upon my people.'' Threw myself in the dust at God's 
feet. Derived some comfort from often repeating those words, 
* I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious.' It seemed 
sweet, as well as reasonable, that God should be a sovereign, 
and do what he will with his own." 

'•ilfarc/i 1,1816. 

" Could I, my dear mother, tell you all the good news 

I have so long been waiting for, it would be some comfort; 
but I can say but little compared with what I hoped to be 
able to say before this time ; nor can I yet determine how it 
will go with us. We have about eighty inquirers, and several, 
I hope, are converted ; but this is nothing to what we expect- 
ed. However, we would be thankful for a drop, if we cannot 
have a shower. It has been a trying season with me this 
27* 



3ig MEMOIR OF 

winter. While pursuing the revival, it seemed as if I must 
die in the pursuit, and never overtake it." 

'' ApHl 1, 1816. 
•-- — " I am so worn down with constant cares and labors. 



that my affections seem to be all dried up, " and I am wither- 
ed like grass." However, I hope you have received, ere this, 
a few lines, as a proof that 1 have not quite forgotten, or ceas- 
ed to love my mother. 

^' Our revival still lingers : it, however, increases slowly. I 
have conversed with about forty who entertain hopes, and 
with about sixty more who are inquiring. Twenty-three have 
joined the church since the year commenced. The work is ev- 
idently not over ; but whether it will prove general, is still 
doubtful. There is quite a revival at Bath, below us. Nearly 
two hundred have been awakened. In Philadelphia, seventy- 
one were added to a single church at one time, a few weeks 
since. In New York and Baltimore, also, there are revivals. 
You have probably heard, that there have been revivals among 
the Hottentots. Two hundred w^ere added to the church in 
one year, and ten Hottentot preachers ordained. There is 
much more good news of a similar nature. Surely we live in 
a good day, and I believe you will yet see good days in 
Rindge. Their liberality in raising father's salary, is a token 
for good ; and I rejoice in it more for that reason than for any 
other. Those who are most willing to pay for the gospel, are 
most likely to have it blessed to them. 

*^ We go on very happily in every respect. I have been fa- 
vored with a long calm, or rather sunshine. Every thing is 
easy ; I am careful for nothing ; Christ is so precious and so 
near ; my cup runneth over. Every day I expect a storm, but 
it does not come. Doubtless I have many bitter, trying 
scenes to pass through yet ; worse than any I have heretofore 
experienced. But I care not. He will carry me through. I 
wish to mention to you some passages, which have been pecu- 
liarly sweet of late. One is this : '^ He caused them to be 
pittied of all them by whom they were carried away captive." 
Scarcely any passage of Scripture seems to me so expressive 
of God's goodness to his people as this. After they had pro- 
voked him, till he banished them from the good land, still he 
pitied them, and made their enemies pity them. It sounds 
like David's language — ''Deal gently with the young man Ab- 
salom for my sake." 

" Another is the account of our Saviour's ascension, in the 
last chapter of Luke : " And he lifted up his hands, and bless- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 3I9 

ed them. And while he blessed them," &c. Observe, " while 
he blessed," dtc. The last thing he was ever seen to do on 
earth, was to 6/6:55 his disciples. He went up, scattering bless- 
ings ; and he has done nothing but bless them ever since." 

" Sept. 19, 1816. 

" I do not wonder at all, my dear mother, at your discover- 
ing from my letters, the jaded, languid state of my mental 
faculties. They have long since lost all the elasticity which 
they ever possessed, and my mind is " as dry as the remainder 
biscuit, after a voyage." 

" On the whole, the past summer has been the hap- 
piest which I have enjoyed since I was settled. Vv^ere it not 
for the dreadfully depressing eifects of ill health, I should be 
almost too happy. It seems to me, that no domestic troubles, 
not even the loss of wife and children, could disturb me much, 
might I enjoy such consolations as I have been favored with 
most of the time since the date of my last letter. Soon after 
that, the revival, which I feared was at an end, began again, 
and things now look as promising as ever. My meeting-house 
overflows, and some of the church are obliged to stay at home, 
on account of the impossibility of obtaining seats. I have, in 
the main, been favored with great liberty for me, both in the 
pulpit and out ; and it has very often seemed as if — could I 
only drop the body — I could continue, v/ithout a moment's 
pause, to praise and adore to all eternity. This good- 
ness is perfectly astonishing and incomprehensible. I am 
in a maze, whenever I think of it. Every day, for years, 
I have been expecting some dreadful judgments, reckon- 
ing, as Hezekiah did, that as a lion God would break all 
my bones, and, from day even to night, make an end of 
me I Now, and now, I have said to myself, it is coming. 
Now, God will cast me out of his vineyard. Now, he will 
lay me aside or withdraw his Spirit, and let me fall into some 
great sin. But, instead of the judgments which I expected 
and deserve, he sends nothing but mercies ; such great mer- 
cies, too, that I absolutely stagger under them, and all my 
words are swallowed up. 

*^But, great as my reasons are to love God for his favors, 
methinks he is infinitely more precious on account of his per- 
fections. Never did he appear so inexpressibly glorious and 
lovely as he has for some weeks past. He is, indeed, all in 
all. I have nothing to fear, nothing to hoi>e from creatures. 
They are all mere shadows and puppets. There is only one 
Being in. the universe, and that Being is God; may I add^ 



320 MEMOIR OF 

He is my God. I long to go and see him in heaven. I long 
still more to stay and serve him on earth. Rather, I rejoice 
to be just where he pleases, and to be what he pleases. Nev- 
er did selfishness and pride appear so horrid. Never did I 
see myself to be such a monster; so totally dead to all wisdom 
and goodness. But I can point up, and say — There is my 
righteousness, my wisdom, my all. In the hands of Christ I 
lie passive and helpless, and am astonished to see how he can 
work in me. He does all ; holds me up, carries me forward, 
works in me and by me ; while I do nothing, and yet never 
worked faster in my life. To say all in a word — *' My soul 
followeth hard after thee ; thy right hand upholdeth me.*' 

** Our inquirers are about seventy. We are building a con- 
ference-house, to hold 500 people. Some of the church, who 
can ill afford it, give fifty dollars each towards it." 

^^ December 9, 1816. 

" In a religious view, things remain very much as they have 
been. We have about fifty inquirers ; but they do not seem, 
except in a few instances, to be very deeply impressed, 
and their progress is slow. We have admitted seventy-two 
persons into the church during the present year. Our new 
conference-house has been finished some weeks ; cost about 
twelve hundred dollars. At its dedication, and at a quarterly 
fast held in it the same week, we enjoyed the divine presence 
in a greater degree, I think, than we ever did before as a 
church. I would not have given a straw for the additional 
proof, which a visible appearance of Christ would have afl 'd- 
ed of his presence. And he has been wonderfully gracious to 
me ever since. It is several months since I have been dis- 
turbed with any of those dreadful conflicts, which for so many 
years rendered life bitterer than wormwood and gall. 

" We have received intelligence of E.'s marriage. I can 
realize, more than I once could, what a severe trial it must be 
to you and my father, to have both daughters gone — almost 
like burying them. If father were not a minister, and thus 
Jiiced where he is, I should send him and you such an invita- 
tion as Joseph sent to Jacob, to come and let us nurse and 
nourish you, since you are left so nmch alone." 

'* Dec. 16, 1817. This being the anniversary of my ordi- 
nation, determined to spend it in fasting and prayer. Had 
little courage to attempt it, on account of bodily infirmities, 
and repeated vain attempts ; but God was gracious to me, and 
enabled me to go through with it. Had, for a long time, a 



EDWARD PAYSON. 321 

melting, heart-broken frame at the feet of Christ, weeping 
aloud, and obtained a fall and sweet assurance of pardon. 
Never before enjoyed such a sense of his love, or felt so con- 
strained to love him, and every thing that belonged to him, 
especially his Word, which I could not forbear kissing, and 
pressing to my bosom. Was perfectly willing to die, without 
leaving my chamber, if my work here were done, and God 
saw best. 

" Dec. 18. Began to think, last night, that I have been 
sleeping all my days ; and, this morning, felt sure of it. I 
have been idling and sleeping, while my flock have been drop- 
ping into hell. How astonishingly blind have I been, and 
how imperceptible my religious progress ! Prayed for my peo- 
ple with more of a right spirit than perhaps ever before. Af- 
ter meeting, had, for a few moments, such a view of God as 
almost overwhelmed me. Could not have supported it long.'' 

" Oct. 27, 1818. 

— — " In addition to these favors, we have some reason to 
hope, that Zion is travailing in birth with souls. After a long 
season, the preached word begins again to be blessed ; and 
several have, within a few days, been awakened. My health, 
too, v/hich for several weeks was worse than ever, is now quite 
as good as usual ; and God has been so gracious to me in spir- 
itual things, that I thought he was preparing me for L.'s death* 
Indeed, it may be so still ; but if so, his will be done. Da- 
vid's charge to his soul, " wait thou only upon God,*' has of 
late seemed peculiarly precious. Let him take all ; if he 
leaves us himself, we still have all and abound. — I tell my 
dear parents of these mercies, because I know they are in an- 
swer to your prayers ; and because I trust they will cause you 
to abound in thanksgiving in my behalf 
* * # * 

" Since I wrote the above, I have seen three more newly 
awakened ; and other circumstances appear encouraging^ 
Truly my cup runs over with blessings. I can still scarcely 
help thinking, that God is preparing me for some severe trial ; 
but if he will grant me his presence, as he does now, no trial 
can seem severe. However, I desire to rejoice with trem- 
bling. I seem to know a little what is meant by fearing the 
Lord and his goodness. There seems to be something awful 
and venerable even in the goodness of God, when displayed 
towards creatures so desperately wicked, so inexpressibly 
vile as we are. O, could I now drop the t>ody, I could stand 
and f ry to all eternity, without being weary — God is holy, God 



322 MEMOIR OF 

is just, God is good ; God is wise, and faithful, and true. Ei- 
ther of his perfections alone is sufficient to furnish matter for 
an eternal, unwearied song. How bright, how dazzling, is 
the pure^ unsullied whiteness of his character ! and how black, 
how loathsome, do we appear in contrast with it ! Could I sing 
upon paper, I should " break forth into singing ;" for, day and 
night, I can do nothing but sing. ' Let the saints be joyful in 
glory ; let them sing aloud upon their beds ; for the Lord shall 
reign king for ever, and thy God, O Zion, throughout all 
generations.' " 

"^pn7 13, 1820. 
" I have lately been very much delighted wuth some ac- 
count of the last years of Mr. Newton. Nothing that I have 
yet met with seems to come so near complete ripeness of 
Christian character, as the views and feelings which he ex- 
presses in his daily conversation. He seems to have seen God 
continually in every thing, to have been wholly swallowed up in 
him, and to have regarded him as all in all. The whole creation 
seemed, as it were, to be annihilated in his view, and God to 
have taken its place. If a miracle had been wrought before 
me, to prove the reality of religion, it could scarcely have 
produced conviction like that which resulted from seeing re- 
ligion thus gloriously exemplified. After his faculties seemed to 
be almost extinct, so that he could not remember, in the after- 
noon, having preached in the morning, faith and love and 
hope were as strong as ever. Indeed, I cannot conceive of 
nearer approaches to perfection in this world, than he seems to 
have made during the last years of his life. He vsays that God 
works in his people to will^ first ; and afterwards, to do ; and 
thinks that Christians will to do good many years before they 
actually do much. This is encouraging. I think God works 
in me to will ; but in doing, my progress is small indeed.'' 

"iJf«yl7, 1821. 
"My dear Mother, 

" 111 news flies so fast, and becomes so much exaggerated 
in its progress, that I should not wonder if you were to hear a 
rumor that I am dying, if not dead. The truth is, I have 
been sick — perhaps dangerously so. About three months 
since, I began to be troubled with a slight cough. It gradu- 
ally grew worse, and was attended with loss of appetite, pain 
in the chest, difficulty of breathing, daily accession of ieyer^ 
and spitting of blood. It is nearly a month since I have been 
obliged to give up preaching, and have recourse to emetics, 



EDWARD PAYSON. g^g 

blistering, bleeding, &c. By the blessing of God attending 
these means, I am now almost well again, and hope to be able 
soon to resume my labors. I am, however, still weak, and can- 
not write much ; but I was fearful you would hear that I am 
worse than I really am, and therefore thought it best to write 
a few lines." 

" June 8. This is a most melancholy day to me. It is the 
Sabbath on which we should have had the communion ; but 
we have no one to preach for us. My flock are scattered, 
and I can only look on and groan. My health is in such a 
state, that I can feel nothing but misery. However, this blow 
seemed to touch me. I saw that it was just, though I can 
scarcely be said to have felt it. To-morrow I expect to sail 
for Charleston, with a view to the recovery of my health ; but 
I go with a heavy heart. There appears little prospect of its 
proving beneficial." 

'' July 16. 

" I am just returned from Charleston. My health is much 
improved. I had a very pleasant passage out ; but a most 
tedious and unpleasant return. The captain who carried me 
out was as kind as possible. I hope he has his reward. He 
offered to carry me to Europe, and bring me back, without a 
farthing's expense. It would have been gratifying to see Old 
England ; but I could not spare the time." 

'* July 16. O, how much better is God to me than my 
fears, and even than my hopes ! how ready to answ^er prayer ! 
This afternoon he has banished my fears and sorrows, strength- 
ened my faith, revived my hopes, and encouraged me to go 
on. Had a precious season in visiting and praying with some 
of my people, and still more so in the evening. O, how wise 
and good is God ! Now I can see it was best that I should 
not be assisted in preaching yesterday ; for it drove me, in 
self-despair, to the throne of grace. Whereas, had I been as- 
sisted, I might have remained at a distance. And I desire to 
record it to the honor of God, and my own shame, that I 
never went to him in distress, v/ithout finding almost imme- 
diate relief 

" July 25. This day I am thirty-eight years old. I had 
intended to make it a day of family thanksgiving, but my 
weakness prevented. Indeed, ill health is an obstacle contin- 
ually in my way, almost wholly obstructing my usefulness and 
growth in grace. Half my time, I am so languid in body and 



324 MEMOIR OF 

mind, that I can do nothing ; and the other half, I am very far 
from being well. But God has hitherto graciously supportea 
me, so that, though cast down, I am not yet destroyed. As 
to resolving that I will do better in future, I have no courage 
to do it. The loss of so many years withers my strength and 
courage, and dries up my spirits." 

'' Aug. 6, IS21, 
" Since I wrote last, there has been quite a change in me. 
Then, my health was better, but my mind sick. Now, my 
mind is comparatively at ease, but my health has sunk down 
nearly to its old standard. However, this state is vastly more 
comfortable than the former, and I desire to be satisfied. I 
think, my dear mother, you may dismiss all anxiety respecting 
me. I am in wise and good hands, and do not suffer more 
than is absolutely necessary.'' 

*' Sept, 1. While lying awake last night, enjoyed most de- 
lightful views of God as a Father. Felt that my happiness is 
as dear to him as to myself; that he would not willingly hurt 
one hair of my head, nor let me suffer a moment's unnecessa- 
ry pain. Felt that he was literally as willing to give as I could 
be to ask. Seemed, indeed, to have nothing to ask for.'^ 

In a letter, dated Sept. 10th, after alluding to " sore trials," 
and especially to one, of several events which had a most mel- 
ancholy and disastrous aspect on the religious prospects of the 
church, he says, " This, coming just when we were expecting 
a revival, was peculiarly grievous; but I still hope, after God 
has crushed us into the dust, he will exalt us. He has been 
most wonderfully gracious to me during these trials. Never 
before have I enjoyed such consolations. It seems as evident 
as noon-day, that the same love which prompted the Saviour to 
bear the curse for us, would have led him to bear all our afflic- 
tions for us, were it not absolutely necessary that, we should 
suffer in our own persons. I see, I feel, that he would as soon 
wound the apple of his eye, as give one of his people a mo- 
ment's needless pain. I care not what trials may come, for 
I know that they will be for my good, and that he will sup- 
port me." 

At the commencement at Bowdoin College, this month, he 
received the degree of Doctor in Divinity ; but writes to his 
mother — ** I beg you not to address your letters to me by that 
title, for I shall never make use of it." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 335 

^ Sept 19. Last night, while lying awake, had more dis- 
tinct apprehensions of God's greatness than at any previous 
time. Realized little of any thing else except simple great- 
ness ; and this, although I seemed to have no views, compared 
with what might be, almost crushed me to death. I could not 
move a limb, nor scarcely breathe. Saw how easily a little 
view of God might destroy us. Could realize more than ever, 
that a clear view of God must be hell to the wicked; for had 
any sense of his anger accompanied this view of his greatness, 
I could not have supported it. 

*' Oct 11. Still my cup runs over with blessings. God 
graciously continues to grant me his presence when I lie down, 
and when I rise up ; though he every day sees enough in me 
to justify him in leaving me forever." 

" Oct. 15. 

** God continues to be wonderfully gracious to me in 

spiritual things. I know not what it means. I never was so 
happy for so long a time before. 1 suspect some grievous trial 
is approaching. Let it come, if God pleases. While he is 
with me, I feel entirely independent of all circumstances, 
creatures, and events. Yet creature comforts are pleasant, 
when we can enjoy God in them. 

" I fear will do the church little good. At first, 

it seemed to affect them in a proper manner, but the impression 
is fast wearing away. Whether God will scourge them still 
more severely, or whether he will come and melt them into 
repentance by unexpected displays of mercy, I do not know. 
If I could see them made to feel what a God Jehovah is, and 
what a Saviour Christ is, and what a place heaven is ! But I 
do not. Still, when I look at God in Christ, and see how good, 
how gracious, how condescending, how powerful he is, I am 
compelled, in spite of myself, to hope, and almost to feel sure, 
that I shall, sooner or later, see a revival of religion here. It 
may be, however, that this bright day is designed only to pre- 
pare me for as dark a night. But I desire to do present duty, 
to enjoy, with humble gratitude, present happiness, and let to- 
morrow take thought for itself" 

''Nov 25. 

" A young man, member of our church, is just settled, 

and a revival has commenced. About fifty are awakened, and 
the work is increasing. He makes the fourth member of our 
church, who has been settled since I came here." [Dr. Pay- 
son superintended the preparation of several young men for the 
ministry.] 

28 



326 MEMOIR OF 

"/'eA.3, 1822. 

" If my letter takes its complexion from my feelings, 

it will appear gloomy indeed. Since I wrote last, it has been a 
season of trial with me. E. has had a terrible abscess, which 
we feared would prove too much for her slender constitution. 
We were almost worn out with watching; and, just as she be- 
gan to amend, I was seized with a violent ague in my face, 
which gave me incessant anguish for six days and nights to- 
gether, and deprived me almost entirely of sleep. Three 
nights, I did not once close my eyes. When almost distract- 
ed with pain and loss of sleep, Satan was let loose upon me, 
to buffet me, and, I verily thought, would have driven me to 
desperation and madness. Nor is my situation now much bet- 
ter. The fact is, my nervous system, at all times weak, has 
been so shattered by pain, and watching, and strong opiates, 
which gave no relief, that I am sunk in gloom and desponden- 
cy, and can only write bitter things against myself Surely 
no one suffers so much unprofitable misery as I do. I call it 
unprofitable, because it is of such a nature that I do not see 
how it possibly can produce any good effect. It only weak- 
ens, dispirits, and discourages me. 

" We have had a few instances of conviction, and at least 
one of conversion, since I wrote last; and the church, I hope, 
is gaining ground. You will be glad to hear that eight or ten 
are awakened in Gorham.^' 

''Feb, 5, 
** I can now write in a less dismal strain. I am not happy, 
but I am less wretched. I feel, that while such a creature as 
I am is out of hell, I have great reason for thankfulness. But 
my flesh trembles, and my blood almost runs cold, when I look 
back upon what I have suffered. Certainly, a very large pro- 
portion of my path lies through the valley of the shadow of 
death. Bishop Hall says — * None out of hell have suffered so 
much as some of God's children ;' and I believe it. I should 
not, however, much regard my sufferings, if they were sanc- 
tified." 

" Feb. 19. 
" You will be glad, my dear mother, to hear that the man 
who had the legion is sitting at the feet of Jesus, in his right 
mind. I had obtained some relief, when I wrote you last, but 
it proved of short continuance ; the clouds returned after the 
rain, and I was again in the horrible pit and miry clay, and 
there remained till the next Sabbath. But now, I trust, the 
devil is cast out , though, as he departed from our Saviour only 



EDWARD PAYSON. 337 

for a season, I know not how soon he may return. You know 
Mr. Newton thinks, that, comparatively speaking, he fights with 
neither small nor great, except with ministers. I know not 
how this may be ; but if he torments others as he does me, I 
am sure I pity them. I am now so worn out with suffering 
and conflict, that I seem incapable of enjoyment ; but I feel 
quiet and peaceful, and that is a great mercy. 

** The symptoms of a revival increase among us. Perhaps 
a dozen have been awakened, and three have obtained hope, 
since I wrote last. I was sent 'for to-day, to see a man ninety- 
two years old, who, after a long life of sin, is awakened in his 
old age. His situation, on the whole, seems encouraging, 
though he is nearly blind and deaf" 

'' Feb. 26. 

" The revival has been advancing, and there now seems to 
be every reason to hope, that God has begun a great work 
among us. I would not be too sanguine, but things look more 
favorable than they have for seven or eight years. Every day, 
I have two, and three, and four inquirers to see me, and their 
convictions are very deep and pungent. Three have just ob- 
tained hope. 

** I rejoice the more in this work, because it enables me to 
stop the mouth of my old adversary, and to prove to his face 
that he is a liar. I could not doubt that I had been enabled 
to pray for a revival these many years. Nor could I persuade 
myself, that Christ had not promised it to me. The essence 
of a promise consists in voluntarily exciting expectation of some 
benefit. In this sense, a revival had often been promised to 
me. And when it was not granted ; when, one time after 
another, promising appearances died away ; and especially, 
when I was lefi: to such exercises as rendered it impossible that 
I should ever be favored with a revival, — Satan had a fine op- 
portunity to work upon my unbelief, and to ask, Where is 
your God 1 what do you get by praying to him ? and where is 
the revival which he has been so lonoj encouracrinor vou to ex- 

o 00./ 

pect, and to pray for 1 Now, I can answer these questions tri- 
umphantly, and put the lying tongue to silence. But the work 
is all God's ; and I stand and look on to see him work ; and 
this is favor enough, and infinitely more than I deserve. 

" You spoke in your last of poor — — . Rich, you would 
call him now, if you could see him. He has made more prog- 
ress in religion since , than he would in twenty years of 

ordinary advancement. I feel like a child when talking with 
him. Truly God's ways are not like ours. — Meanwhile poor 



328 MEMOIR OF 

brother Rand, who is not half so undeserving of a revival as 
I am, is laid aside, just as soon as favorable symptoms begin to 
appear. His physicians speak very discouragingly." 

" March 7. Preached in the evening to the largest assem- 
bly that I had ever addressed at a Thursday lecture. Came 
home encouraged, and rejoicing in God. The work is his — I 
am nothing, and love to be nothing. Dare not promise to 
serve God more faithfully. However extensive a revival he 
may send, I shall again be stupid and ungrateful, unless he 
prevent." 

'' March 17. 
'* The revival goes on. Fifteen, we hope, are converted ; 
and four times that number under deep impressions. But in 
the midst of it I am laid aside. My lungs have been failing 
for several weeks, and I can preach no longer. After my last 
Thursday lecture, I had a strange turn. Every body thought 
I was dying. It was occasioned by an inability in the heart, 
to free itself from the blood which poured in upon it. How- 
ever, the doctor came, and took a large quantity of blood, which 
relieved me. But I am just as I was last spring, and, unless 
God interposes to help me, shall be unable to preach for weeks. 
You may well suppose that this is a trying dispensation ; but so 
far I am kept quiet under it. I feel that it is not only just, 
but wise and kind. Poor brother Rand is in the same situa- 
tion. The revival among his people increases, but he can do 
nothing. I wish P. was here ; we both need him.'* 

'' May 20, 1823. 

" Ca3sar, speaking of one of his many battles which 

was severely contested, observed that, on former occasions, he 
had fought for victory, but then he fought for life. Even so it 
is with me. Once I fought for victory, and no ordinary victo- 
ry would satisfy me; but my strength, and courage, and ambi- 
tion, are now so crushed, that I fight merely for life, and I am 
scarcely able to secure even that. Still I hope for victory ul- 
timately. I have just finished a sermon on Hezekiah's peti- 
tion — " O Lord, I am oppressed ; undertake for me.'* It has 
given me some comfort ; it ought to give me more. Indeed, 
if we properly considered who Christ is, and what he has un- 
dertaken to do for us, we should never need consolation, but 
might, like St. Paul, though sorrowful, be always rejoicing ; 
and say with him — " Bl-essed be God, who hath blessed us with 
all sjpiritual blessings in heavenly things in Christ Jesus." — I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 329 

have prepared another sermon from a succeeding passage in 
the same chapter, — " Thou hast, in love to my soul, delivered 
it from the pit of corruption," The words '' delivered it" are 
not in the original ; and, as father Henry observes, the pas- 
sage may be read, — * Thou hast loved my soul from the pit 
of corruption ; thou hast loved my soul when it was in the pit 
of corruption, and thou hast loved it out of the pit of corrup- 
tion ; not merely taken it out, and redeemed it out, but loved 
it out:' 

" May 25. 

" My sermon on Christ's undertaking for us does me more 
and more good. I wish I could impart to you some of the 
comfort which it gives me. I wish to get away from frames 
and feelings, and live continually on the precious truth, — 
* Christ has undertaken for me.' He is able, he is faithful, he 
will keep what he has undertaken to keep, he will do all he 
has undertaken to do. — Another passage has been very sweet 
to me this morning, and I think I shall preach upon it next 
Sabbath : — ' He hath made us accepted in the Beloved.' To 
be accepted of God, to be accepted in his beloved Son— what 
an honor ! what a privilege ! Well may it be said, to every 
one who enjoys it, ** Go thy way, eat thy bread vv^ith joy, and 
drink thy wine with a merry heart ; for God now accepteth thy 
works." 

" Our church began, last winter, to employ a domestic mis- 
sionary. They sent him to a town which has long been with- 
out a minister, and where, just before, a vain attempt had been 
made to raise one hundred dollars to pay for preaching. His 
labors produced such effect, that they have now raised a per- 
manent fund, which will support a minister for ever. They 
have also given our missionary a unanimous call to settle with 
them. We shall make a similar experiment in another town, 
as soon as we can find a suitable missionary. How much is 
money worth at such a time as this !" 

Dr..Payson describes a species of trial, to which he was 
twice subjected, that will, probably, at the first glance, sur- 
prise those who were acquainted with his strong confidence in 
revelation, and his rich experience in the consolations of reli- 
gion. It shows most vividly the awful malice of the " accuser 
of the brethren," whose power to distress Christians, as well 
as his agency among ''the children of disobedience," is great- 
ly underrated at the present day ; and even his existence is 
extensively doubted. Against the servant of God, who was 
making such inroads upon his kingdom, he seems to have di- 
28* 



330 MEMOIPw OF 

reeled all his "fiery darts." They gave temporary pain, bat 
inflicted no mortal wound. The adversary was foiled. 

** Dec. 5, lSt3. 

— " I have been sick, and laid by from preaching on 
thanksgiving day and two Sabbaths, but am now able to re- 
sume my labors. But O the temptations which have harass- 
ed me for the last three months 1 I have met with nothing 
like them in books. I dare not mention them to any mortal, 
lest they should trouble him as they have troubled me ; but, 
should I become an apostate, and write against religion, it 
seems to me that I could bring forward objections which would 
shake the faith of all the Christians in the world. What I 
marvel at is, that the arch deceiver has never been permitted 
to suggest them to some of his scribes, and have them publish- 
ed. They would, or I am much mistaken, make fearful work 
with Christians for a time, though God would, doubtless, ena- 
ble them to overcome in the end. It seems to me, that my 
state has been far worse than that of Mansoul was when Di- 
abolus and his legions broke into the town. They could not 
get into the castle, the heart ; but my castle was full of them. 
But do not be troubled for me ; I am now better. Let me, 
then, try to comfort my mother." 

The other passage, depicting a similar conflict, was written 
about a year and a half after the above : — 

" It seems to me, that those who die young, like Brainerd 
and Martyn, know almost nothing of the dithculty of perse- 
vering in the Christian race. My difhculties increase every 
year. There is one trial which you cannot know experiment- 
ally. It is that of being obliged to preach to others, when one 
doubts of every thing, and can scarcely believe that there is a 
God. All the atheistical, deistical, and heretical objections, 
which I meet with in books, are childish babblmgs, compared 
with those which Satan suggests, and which he urges upon 
the mind with a force which seems irresistible. Yet I am 
often obliged to write sermons, and to preach, when these ob- 
jections beat upon me like a whirlwind, and almost distract 
me. — When he asks, as he does continually ask. What have 
you gained by all your prayers ? I know not what to reply. 
However, pray I must, and, God assisting me, pray I will. The 
way is indeed difiicult, but I can devise no other which is not 
more so. There is no one to whom I can ffo, if I forsake 
Christ." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 331 

As to the influence of these last quoted passages on the 
reader's mind, they are adapted, not to raise doubts respecting 
the genuineness and authenticity of revelation, but to strength- 
en his confidence in it, as the sure word of God, which endur^ 
eth forever. The obvious and legitimate inference from them 
is, that the Bible can sustain, uninjured, attacks and objec- 
tions, as much more formidable than any which have been 
directed against it by the mightiest infidels, as their objections 
are superior to the merest *^ childish babWings." If such tre- 
mendous volleys, from the enemy's battery, could not rend 
away the foundations of Dr. Payson's faith, however they 
might distress him for a time, that faith surely rested on a 
basis as firm as the everlasting hills, which all the powers of 
earth and hell will for ever assail in vain. An opposite con- 
clusion would be as illogical and preposterous as it is false in 
itself No reasonable man can adduce Dr. Payson's tempta- 
tions to discredit religion ; for they are vanquished tempta- 
tions. Be it remembered, that ho overcame them all. How- 
ever weighty or numerous the objections to revealed religion, 
the evidences vastly preponderate. 

We have ascribed these *Moubts and temptations" to Sa- 
tan, without undertaking to define the manner or degree of 
his agency on the human mind, or to distinguish his sugges- 
tions from man's voluntary acts. If we have indicated their 
true source, it should not surprise us that these doubts respect 
what is fundamental in religion. Dr. Payson's language, on 
another occasion, is applicable to this case : — ** Satan will not 
disturb a false peace, because it is a peace of which he is the 
author." For the same reason, he would not disturb a man's 
speculative belief in a religion fundamentally erroneous ; for 
this would be ^ dividing against himself,' and undermining his 
own kingdom. 

It seerns, from numerous facts, which might be adduced, to 
have been in the counsels of God, that, among those whom 
he designed to be distinguished instruments in defending and 
promoting the pure religion of the Bible, no inconsiderable 
number should be subjected to the severest trials, in regard to 
its claims to human confidence. That laborious and success- 
ful servant of God, Richard Baxter, undprwent this test. 
John Bunyan had long and distressing trials of this kind : — 
** Whole floods of blasphemies," he tells us, '^ both against God, 
Christ, and the Scriptures, were poured in upon his spirit, to 
his great confusion and astonishment. These blasphemous 
thoughts stirred up questions in him against the very being of 
God, and of his only beloved Son ; as whether there were, in 



332 MEMOIR OF 

truth, a God or Christ, and whether the Holy Scriptures were 
not rather a fable and cunning story, than the holy and pure 
word of God." Even his pilgrim, whose experience was in- 
tended to represent that of ordinary Christians, and to whose 
fidelity, in its grand outlines and general character, every 
evangelical Christian can testify, did not reach the celestial 
city without encountering atheistical doubts on his way thither. 
References of this kind might be multiplied ; but what do 
they prove ? Not that the Scriptures are false, and religion a 
delusion, but that they can survive, and shine the brighter, 
and stand the firmer, notwithstanding the most malignant and 
desperate assaults of their most powerful foes. By these tri- 
als, considered as a dispensation of God, many valuable ends 
are answered. The champion of the cross, who is destined 
to make wide encroachments on the kingdom of Satan, must 
not be *^ ignorant of his devices." He must see and know 
the enemies to be resisted, in order to wield his spiritual 
weapons with skill and effect. When Luther took the *^cowl 
and tonsure," he little knew for what purpose ; and human 
foresight would never have predicted the consequences w^hich 
grew out of his seclusion. But it was in a monastery that he 
acquired that knowledge and experience, which fitted him for 
the peculiar part which he was subsequently to act, in demol- 
ishing monastic institutions, and in kindling and spreading 
the light of the glorious reformation. His own testimony rec- 
ognises, what every Christian will readily admit, that the 
design of God, in permitting him to become a monk, was very 
different from that of the adversary in tempting him to be 
one: — ^^ Of the propriety of my conduct at that time, my 
opinion has certainly undergone a change : but God, by his 
infinite wisdom and mercy, has been pleased to produce great 
good out of evil. Satan seems to have anticipated in me, 
from my infancy, some of those qualities which have since 
appeared ; and, to prevent the progress of the cause in which 
I have been instrumental, he affected my mind to such a 
degree as to make me often wonder whether I was the only 
creature whom he tormented. Now, however, I perceive that 
God directed that I should acquire, by personal experience, a 
knowledge of the constitution of universities and monasteries, 
that my opponents might have no handle to boast that I pre- 
tended to condemn things of which I was ignorant. It was 
ordained, therefore, that I should pass part of my life in a 
monastery." 

But, while it is a grand object with that ** adversary, who 
goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour," 



EDWARD PAYSON. 335 

to weaken, and, if possible, to destroy, the faith of God's peo- 
ple in the fundamental articles of religion, and to shake their 
hope of a personal interest in its blessings, there is something 
in man himself which makes him anxious on these points, and 
predisposes him to tremble, lest they should not abide the test. 
And no wonder ; for they concern his eternal well-being. 
Where he regards his all as depending, it is natural that he 
should feel his ground, and look well to his foundation. If he 
fail here, he suffers a total failure. Hence we often see per- 
sons more confident respecting the circumstantials of religion, 
than they are concerning its essentials. Anecdotes exhibiting 
this quality will occur to every one on reflection. 

The doubts which, during his early investigation of theolog- 
ical subjects. Dr. Payson expressed respecting some points of 
the Calvinistic system, or the doctrines which are usually thus 
designated, cannot, without manifest perversion, be used to 
the prejudice of evangelical truth ; for to them, also, the rea- 
soning above most forcibly applies. In the resolution of 
these doubts, in such a mind as his, there is a testimony to 
the truth of the doctrines of grace too valuable to be lost. 
Every shock which they receive leaves them more firmly es- 
tablished. By the same means, they acquired a hold on his 
own soul, which his powerful and exasperated foe could not 
disengage, though the effort sunk him " in heaviness for a sea- 
son, through the manifold temptations" which accompanied it. 
Of the doctrines of grace, no man was ever more " fully per- 
suaded in his own mind" than Dr. Payson^ and the influence 
of this persuasion was most powerful, in wresting from " the 
god of this world" some of his most valued subjects. It was 
the means, of converting, from a lax theology and consequent 
indifference to eternal concerns, to evangelical faith and obe- 
dience, some who were distinguished for their standing and 
their wealth. The enemy of all righteousness saw no way to 
shake his firmness in these doctrines, except by an attempt to 
discredit that revelation of God, in which they are found. 
Hence, probably, the peculiar trials which have occasioned 
these remarks. 

The reader, however, is not to infer, that the doubts and 
temptations above recorded are any necessary part of religion ; 
or, indeed, that they are among the healthful operations of 
piety. This is far from being the case. They have their oc- 
casion, partly, at least, in bodily and even spiritual disease ; 
under the influence of which the subjects of them are pecu- 
liarly liable to the vexatious and blasphemous assaults of Satan. 
And doubtless they should be viewed as chastisements^ as well 



334 MEMOIR OF 

as grievous calamities ; and if a man could know all that was 
in his heart, he might know to what sin or sinful tendency the 
punishment was suited. Bunyan, after having been delivered 
from these horrid exercises, which he endured for a long time, 
att/ibuted them chiefly to two causes : ' That, after being 
freed from one temptation, he did not still pray to God to keep 
him from the temptation that was to come ;' and ' That he had 
tempted God, not by any outward act, but by secretly saying 
in his heart, Lord, if now thou wilt remove this sad affliction, 
. . . then shall I know that thou canst discern the most secret 
thoughts of the heart.' The affliction was suddenly removed ; 
but, for his presumption, a sting was left in his conscience more 
intolerable than any bodily anguish. So far as these trials were 
visited upon Dr. Payson as a chastisement, it must have been 
for sins of the heart ; for outwardly he was remarkably cir- 
cumspect. The external act which cost him more anguish 
than any other act of his life, and which is dwelt upon more 
circumstantially than any other in his journal, was one, in it- 
self of the most trifling and indifferent character, too insignifi- 
cant to be specified ; and yei was so associated in his mind 
with other circumstances, as to distress him beyond measure, 
and excite his fears that he was completely given over into the 
hands of the enemy. Still the reasonings which he applies to 
the case, even at the time, are strikingly apposite, scriptural, 
and rational, and ought to have brought him complete relief. 
That they did not, shows rather the strength of his malady, 
than the degree of his guilt. 

Let it then be fixed in the mind, that these horrible exer- 
cises are not to be coveted as a necessary part of Christian ex- 
perience. Far otherwise ; it should be our daily prayer to be 
kept from such temptations. As a defence against them, we 
should trust in God at all times, and pour out our hearts be- 
fo»e him. We should strive to banish such suggestions from 
the mind, when they enter it, and to hold up the shield of faith 
as a defence against these fiery darts of the devil, when we 
see them approaching. *^ Tell me," says Baxter, ** what you 
would do, if you heard a scold in the street reviling you, or 
heard an atheist there talk against God : would you stand still 
to hear them, or would you talk it out again with them, or 
rather go froni them, and discJain to hear them, or debate the 
case with such as they ? Do you, in your case, when Satan 
casts in ugly, or despairing, or murmuring thoughts, go away 
from them to some other thoughts or business. . . . To be 
tempted, is common to the best. Yet be not too much trou- 
bled at the temptation ; for trouble of mind doth keep the evil 



EDWARD PAYSON. 335 

matter in your memory, and so increase it, as the pain of a 
sore draws the blood and spirits to the place. And this is the 
design of Satan, to give you troubling thoughts, and then to 
cause more, by being troubled at those ; and so, for one thought 
and trouble, to cause another, and that another, and so on.'*' 

That physical constitution and temperament which qualify 
men to exert an uncommon influence over their fellow men, 
to excite their sympathies, to touch the springs of action, and 
call their feelings into vigorous exercise ; to rouse, impel and 
guide a whole community, and to leave an example which 
shall act with impressive energy upon posterity, seem also to 
have been connected, in many eminent instances, with a pre- 
disposition to melancholy and depression. Luther is a distin- 
guished example of these apparently opposite qualities. " He, 
who was so bold in asserting the cause of Christianity, and so 
fearless of personal danger in its promotion, was not unfre- 
quently sunk in despondency, and was doubtful even whether 
he was a real Christian." Thus God hath set one thing over 
against the other, that all may feel their dependence, and that 
no flesh might glory in his presence. 

When Christ said to Peter, " Satan hath desired to have thee, 
that he may sift thee as wheat," he immediately after indicat- 
ed his own purpose, in permitting that disciple to fall, by the 
injunction, ** When thou art converted, strengthen thy breth- 
ren." It is perfectly obvious, that, after his fall and recove- 
ry, he was, in some respects, better qualified to edify the 
church of God than either of his fellow disciples, or than he 
could have been himself without the experience of that guilty, 
shameful, melting, heart-breaking process of backsliding and 
recovery. He exercised a train of emotions, to which he must 
otherwise have been a stranger, and which had a most impor- 
tant influence on his own character and labors, as a minister 
of Christ, as well as on his success. Bunyan enumerates sev- 
eral advantages as accruing from his torturing, frightful temp- 
tations ; such as a wonderful sense of the blessing and glory 
of God, and of his beloved Son. The glory of God's holiness 
did break him to pieces, and the compassion of Christ did 
break him as on the wheel. The Scriptures also were won- 
derful things to him ; he saw more into the nature of the 
promises than ever before ; for while he lay trembling under 
the mighty hand of God, continually rent and torn by the 
thundering of his justice, it made him, with a careful heart 
and watchful eye, turn over every leaf, and, with much dili- 
gence, mixed with much trembling, to consider every sentence 
together with its natural force and latitude. It cured him of 



336 MEMOIR OF 

putting off the word of promise when it came into his mind. 
He did not look principally for comfort, though it would have 
been inexpressibly welcome, but a word to lean a weary 
soul upon, that it may not sink forever. He saw those heights 
and depths in grace, and love, and mercy, which he never saw 
before ; and that, where guilt is most terrible and fierce, there 
the mercy of God in Christ, when showed to the soul, appears 
most high and mighty ? Without these deep and painful ex- 
periences, could he ever have been so eminently successful in 
guiding pilgrims through the snares of their difficult road, or 
have set up so many way-marks to keep them from ^ the en- 
chanted ground," from ** doubting castle," and *^ giant De- 
spair ?" By a similar discipline was Dr. Payson prepared to 
bring relief to the afflicted people of God, as has been already 
seen. Costly as was his experimental knowledge, he was a 
thousand times repaid for it, by being made the minister of 
peace to the worried and affiighted sheep of Christ^s fold. 
Shall we therefore do evil that good may come ? God forbid. 
If we are exempted from these distresses while we are enabled 
to give due attention to the concerns of our souls, our thanks 
to God should abound. We now return from this digression. 

^^ Jan. 1, 1824. Rose early, and tried to pray ; but a weak, 
languid frame crushed me down. I have, however, reason to 
bless God, that he allows such a wretch as I am to serve him 
at all. Groaned and struggled with my weakness before God. 
— Read a number of passages in my diary, especially what is 
recorded under date of Dec. 16, 1815. Am glad I kept a 
journal. I had otherwise forgotten much of what I have 
done against God, and of what he has done for me. Was con- 
founded at what I read. My words are swallowed up. My 
life, my ministry, has been madness, madness ! What shall I 
do ? where shall I hide ? To sin, after I had sinned so much, 
and after I had been forgiven ! But I cannot write ! I cannot 
think ! And if my sins appear so black in my book, how do 
they appear in God's ! ' 

" Jan. 29. Have had much to be thankful for, and much 
to be ashamed of, for some days past. God has been more 
than ordinarily gracious to me, granting me liberty of access 
to him in prayer, and permitting me to be, in some degree, 
useful. I have received many tokens of warm affection from 
his people, and been assisted in my work. . . . Have learned a 
lesson which I ought to have learned before. I am religiously 
romantic. I am always expecting something out of the com- 
mon course, and planning what God is going to do. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 337 

" May 15. Rode to G. to give them a day's preaching, as 
they are destitute. Took up a poor cripple by the way, and 
preached Christ to him. Felt some pity and love for him, 
virhile talking. A curious combination of circumstances threw 
him in my way. Could not but think how we both should ad- 
mire the leadings of Providence, if he should be converted in 
consequence of what was said to him. 

" July 20, Perplexed what to do. My people wish me to 
go to Europe, Tried to commit the case to God. 

*' Oct. 17. Slept none last night, and my sufferings were 
great. My right arm seems about to perish. Could say, 
God's will be done. 

" Nov. 7. What I have long feared is come upon me. My 
voice and my faculties are half gone already, and what remains 
is rapidly departing. 

" Nov. 27. Was favored with a most precious season in 
prayer. Had such views of God and Christ ! Lay and mourn- 
ed at his feet, till I was exhausted, and longed unutterably to 
be more holy, and to have others holy. O, what reason have 
I to bless God for this ! 

" Jan. 5, 1825. At the concert on Monday, recommended 
to the church to imitate the Lord's prayer, and always begin 
their supplications with praying that God's name may be glo- 
rified. Have derived much benefit from pursuing this prac- 
tice. Made eleven visits, and felt thankful for having strength 
to do it. 

" Jan. 31. Felt very happy and dead to the world, all day. 
Rejoiced in God, and cared notVhat he did with me. 

" JFeb. 9. Had a delightful season in prayer. It seemed 
as if it was only to ask and receive. Had nothing to ask for 
myself, except that I might be swallowed up in the will of God. 

" I^eb. 15, 16. Much engaged in visiting. Went to the 
utmost extent of my strength. Felt insatiable desires for more 
holiness." 

" Boston, March 21, 182o. 
'^ My dear Mother, 

** I value your letters much, and your prayers still more ; and 
sometimes think that your life is preserved, principally, to pray 
for your children. It will be found, I doubt not, in the com- 
ing world, that ministers had much less share in the success 
which attends their labors, than is now supposed. It will be 
found, that, if they drew the bow, the prayers of Christians 
pointed and guided the arrow. I preached last evening to an 
immense concourse of people. After the pews were filled, 
seats were brought in, and placed in all the aisles. So far as I 
29 



338 MEMOIR OF 

know, however, very little good has been done by my labors 
here. But I desire to leave it all with God. I am astonished 
and ashamed by the kindness with which his people here treat 
me. * * * * 

" You express a wish that my feelings were more equable. 
I wish they were. But I am so completely wretched when 
God withdraws from me, that the removal of that wretched- 
ness by his return, renders me almost too happy. — This thought 
has lately been of some service to me. Every Christian ought 
to love God in proportion to what has been forgiven him. But 
every Christian knows more evil of himself than he can know 
of any other human being. He ought, therefore, to feel as if 
more had been forgiven him, and as if he were under greater 
obligations to love God than any other human being ; as if it 
were worse for him to sin against God than it would be for 
any other." 

" Portland, July 27. 

•' I had attempted to observe my birth-day as a day of 



prayer, but apparently to no purpose. I was so unwell, that I 
could do nothing. However, the next day, the blessings which 
I wished to ask for, but could not, were bestowed. I need not 
tell you how sweet, how soothing, how refreshing, Christ's re- 
turning presence is, after long, absence. Still I am borne 
down in such a manner by ill health, that I can but half re- 
joice. The state of religion among us helps, also, to crush 
me. — There never has been so entire a suspension of divine 
influences, since my settlement, as at present. Those of the 
church who are most spiritual, tell me that they never found 
it so difficult to perform religious duties, as they do now. In 
fine, the church seems to be on Bunyan's enchanted ground, 
and many of them are sleeping in some of the arbors which he 
mentions. Whether they will wake before death, seems 
doubtful.^' 

'' Sept. 29. 

" I preached last Sabbath on being guilty of the blood 

of souls ; and endeavored to point out some of the ways in 
which we may incur this guilt. I have incurred but too much 
of it ; and it lies upon me with a weight which I know not how 
to bear, but which I cannot throw off. True, blood has been 
shed for us, which has efficacy to take away the guilt of blood. 
But though this consideration may keep us from despair, it can- 
not shield us, or, at least, cannot shield one whose guilt is 
like mine, from the sufferings occasioned by self-reproach, and 



EDWARD PAYSON. 339 

a wounded spirit. I seldom think of the time I spent in B. 
without a pang, the keenness of which you cannot easily con- 
ceive. It is a painful thought, that we are so long in learning 
how to live, that ere the lesson is well learned, life is spent. 
— Another subject, on which I have lately been writing, and 
which has assisted to increase my depression, was suggested 
by the passage — " Even Christ pleased not himself" If 
any one, who ever lived in this world, had a right to please 
himself, he surely had such a right ; yet how far was he from 
exercising or claiming it ! He evidently adopted and acted 
upon the principle, that, as man, he was not his own ; that 
he belonged to God, and to the universe, and that he must do 
nothing merely for the sake of promoting his own personal 
gratification. I contemplate this example with feelings similar 
to those with which a child, who has just begun to hold a pen, 
may be supposed to look upon a superb copper-plate, which he 
is required to imitate ; or, rather, with such feelings as one 
might indulge, who had been learning to write for many years, 
and yet found himself further from resembling his copy, than 
he was at first." 

" Nov, 4. Quarterly fast. Went to meeting feeling very 
unwell, and found very few assembled. Was obliged to wait 
half an hour before there was a sufficient number to sing. 
Was entirely overcome by discouragement. Could not say a 
word, and, after struggling in vain with my feelings, was 
obliged to state them to the church, and come away. 

" Nov. 9. Installation of a minister over the Third Church, 
to-day. Have reason to be thankful, that I have been carried 
through this business of separation so well, and that affection 
for those who have left us is rather increased than diminished." 

This last date brings us down to a period, from which his 
health may be said to have been constantly declining. The 
progress of the maladies, which were wasting away his frame, 
may have been stayed for a few days or weeks in succession, 
after this ; but their hold on him was never more weakened. 
The winter succeeding was one of infirmity and suffering. He 
continued to preach on the Sabbath ; but the exhaustion con- 
sequent upon the exertion, often rendered it difficult for him 
to reach his home, distant but a few rods. So much overcome 
was he, as to be physically unable to lead the devotions of his 
own family ; and his Sabbath nights were nights of restlessness 
and anguish. Still, when holy time again returned, he longed 
for the habitation of God's house, and again repeated his ef- 
forts, and with similar consequences. 



340 MEMOIR OF 

Observing with alarm this prostration of his strength, his 
people, in the spring of 1826, resolved upon an alteration of 
their meeting-house, with a view to his relief The ceiling 
was brought down and arched, and the floor inclined towards 
the pulpit, by which changes more than one third of the space 
to be filled by the speaker's voice was excluded, and the diffi- 
culty of filling it diminished in a still greater proportion. It 
was while this alteration was in progress, that he made his cir- 
cuitous and last journey to the Springs, which has already been 
mentioned. 

On arriving there, he said to Mr. Whelpley, in allusion to 
his health — * I am in pursuit of a good which is constantly 
flying before me, and which, I apprehend, will for ever elude 
my grasp.' — ' The incessant and unremitted labor of years,' 
adds Mr. W., ^ seemed to have left him but a mere wreck of 
beings which he longed to be rid of to serve God in a region 
of perfect health and boundless activity. He had little expec- 
tation of recovering his health, and several times remarked, 
that, if it was the will of God to take him away speedily, it 
was no matter how soon he departed. The idea of wearing 
out his days in a state of inactivity and consequent depression, 
was distressing to him, and made him deeply solicitous to have 
the question of life and death fully settled. Sometimes, said 
he, when I retire to bed, I should be happy to have it the last 
night of my life. With Job he might say — ** I am made to 
possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed 
unto me. When I lie down, I say. When shall I arise, and the 
night be gone? I am full of tossings to and fro unto the 
dawning of the day ! — When I say. My bed shall comfort me, 
and my couch shall ease my complaint ; then thou scarest me 
with dreams, and terrifiest me with night visions ; so that my 
soul chooseth strangling and death rather than life. — I loathe 
it ; I would not live alway." ' 

Mr. Whelpley imagined — and in this he was unquestionably 
correct — that the sufferings of Dr. Payson were greater than 
any one knew or suspected ; and he adds, Uhey were endured, 
for the most, in silence. At midnight, he would arise and walk 
his room, singing some plaintive air. At first, I knew not what 
to make of the unwonted and mournful sounds, which brol^e in 
upon my slumbers ; and often, as the sound softly died away, 
my soul was filled with sadness. — He complained much of his 
head. In one conversation, he dwelt particularly on the causes 
which had operated to undermine and destroy his health. — 
Among them was his great and increasing anxiety for a gener- 
al and powerful revival of religion among his people ; his in- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 341 

cessant labors to secure so great a blessing, and the repeated 
disappointments he had experienced from year to year. We 
would seem, said Dr. Payson, to be on the eve of an extensive 
revival, and my hopes would be correspondently raised ; and 
then the favorable appearances would vanish away. Under 
the powerful excitement of hope, and under the succeeding 
depression arising from disappointment, my strength failed, 
and I sunk rapidly under my labors. He spoke of having been 
under a temptation, constantly, to labor beyond his strength ; 
and believed many a faithful minister had thus been tempted 
by Satan to cut short his days. In this way his own life had 
been shortened. When, in a season of excitement, he had ex- 
hausted his whole strength, even then Satan suggested that he 
had not done enough, but must do much more, or be counted 
unfaithful.' 

If the proofs of his disinterestedness were not so abundant 
and conclusive, this ceaseless anxiety for a revival could hardly 
be regarded otherwise than as sinful impatience, and as indi- 
cating a want of gratitude for what God did perform by him. 
It appears the more remarkable, when contemplated in con- 
nexion with the fact, that the church was continually growing 
under his ministrations, and the congregation enlarging, till 
there was not room, enough to receive them. There are many 
good ministers, who would consider themselves favored by such 
a measure of success as attended his least honored labors. In 
no year of his ministry did his church receive less than ten 
new members, and in only one year so small a number ; while, 
at another time, the yearly increase was seventy-three, and in 
the year of his death, seventy-nine ; and the average number 
was more than thirty-five a year during the whole of his minis- 
try. If there were an entire suspension of divine influences 
at any time, it was of temporary duration. Judging from the 
accessions made to the church, there must have been a con- 
stant and gradual work of God. If the term of his ministry 
be divided into periods of five years, the number added in each 
period differs from that of every other period, by a compara- 
tively small number. The difference is in favor of the first 
two periods, when, with fewer bodily infirmities, he ^ ceased not 
daily, and from house to house, to testify repentance towards 
God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.' 

About mid-summer, he returned from his last excursion 
abroad to the bosom of his family and flock, and continued to 
employ the little strength which remained in making known 
Jesus Christ, and him crucified. From this labor no entrea- 
ties could prevail with him to desist. He continued to occupy 
29* 



342 MEMOIR OF 

his pulpit on the Sabbath, for the most part, through the fol- 
lowing winter ; notwithstanding parts of his body, particularly 
his right arm, had already begun to perish, and were not only 
useless, but an incumbrance. But while * the outward man 
decayed, the inward man was renewed day by day.' This is 
in a degree true of his mental faculties, as well as of his reli- 
gious progress. The coruscations of his intellect delighted and 
astonished his visiters. Among these was the Secretary of the 
American Education Society, who, asking Dr. Payson for a 
message which he might carry from him to beneficiaries, re- 
ceived the following impromptu : — 

" What if God should place in your hand a diamond, and 
tell you to inscribe on it a sentence which should be read at 
the last day, and shown there as an index of your own thoughts 
and feelings ? What care, what caution would you exercise in 
the selection! Now, this is what God has done. He has 
placed before you immortal minds, more imperishable than the 
diamond, on which you are about to inscribe, every day and 
every hour, by your instructions, by your spirit, or by your ex- 
ample, something which will remain, and be exhibited for, or 
against you, at the judgment day." 

We shall close our extracts, and this chapter, with two short 
letters to his mother, the last he ever wrote : — 

''Feb, I, IS^l. 
" My dear Mother, 

" I have just received your letter ; and though I am obliged 
to write with my left hand, and that is numb, I must try to 
scratch a few lines in reply. I am no better ; am tolerably 
contented and happy, but have not much sensible consolation. 
We have increasing evidence that L. is become pious ; but E., 
who seemed to be in a promising way, has lost his impressions. 
You have probably heard, that Mr. R. has hopes that H. is 
converted. We have about a dozen hopeful converts, and ap- 
pearances are encouraging. — I have much to be thankful for. 
Wife, children and people, all try to minister to my comfort. 
I rejoice to hear that your mind is in so desirable a frame, 
though I expected no less. God has not led you so far to for- 
sake you at last. Should you be taken away before me, I shall 
feel as Elisha did when he lost Elijah ; for I doubt not your 
prayers have been of great service to me. I received a letter 
from G. lately, inviting me to come and spend part of the win- 
ter at New York. I thank him, but I cannot come. Home 



EDWARD I AYSON. 343 

is the only place for a cripple, who can neither dress nor un- 
dress himself; besides, I can be of some service to my people, 
while here. I have many things to say ; but writing is so 
wearisome and painful, that I can add nothing more. Assure 
G. and E. of my warmest love, and believe me 

" Your affectionate son." 

** My DEAR MOTHER; 

'' I wrote the enclosed letter three weeks since, and sent it 
with the money by a man, who said he was going to New 
York ; but after I hoped it had arrived there, it came back to 
me again. — I have just received your last letter, and what shall 
I say in reply ? If my hand would permit, I could say much ; 
if my health would allow of it, I would come and see you. 
As it is, I can only say, God be with you, my dear mother, and 
bless you, as he has made you a blessing to me. If it be his 
will that we should not meet again in this world, I must say — 
Farewell, for a short time ; for short, I trust, will be the time 
before we meet again. Farewell, then, my dear, dear moth- 
er ! for a short time, farewell !" 

It proved to be the last farewell. His mother, a few days 
afterwards, was called to her eternal home. 



344 MEMOIR OF 



CHAPTER XX. 

His last labo7*s — His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels, and 
brightening intellect, during the progress of his disease — 
His triumphant exit — Conclusion. 

Dr. Payson was at length compelled to yield to the irresist- 
ible power of disease. Parts of his body, including his right 
arm and left side, were very singularly affected. They were 
incapable of motion, and lost all sense of feeling externally ; 
while, in the interior parts of the limbs thus affected, he expe- 
rienced, at intervals, a most intense burning sensation, which 
he compared to a stream of fused metal, or liquid fire, cours- 
ing through his bones. No external applications were of the 
least service ; and in addition to his acute sufferings from this 
source, he was frequently subject to most violent attacks of 
nervous head-ache. 

It was with great reluctance that he relinquished preaching. 
* The spirit continued willing,' long after the ' flesh failed.' 
But who can resist the appointment of Heaven ! The decree 
had gone forth, that he must die ; and the progress of his 
complicated maladies declared but too unequivocally that the 
decree must soon be executed. He did not, however, cease 
preaching at once, but, at first, secured assistance for half 
the day only. An arrangement to this effect, which was ex- 
pected to continue several weeks, commenced on the second 
Sabbath of March. He occupied the pulpit in the morning. 
His text was. The word of the Lord is tried. The sermon 
was not written, of course ; but no one, that he ever wrote, 
not even his celebrated* discourse on the Bible, was more in- 
structive and eloquent than this — particularly those parts in 
which he described the trials to which the word of the Lord 
had been subjected by its enemies, and the tests of a different 
character which it had sustained from its friends. Never, 
scarcely, were the mightiest infidels made to appear so puny, 
insignificant, and foolish. ^' He who sitteth in the heavens" 
could almost be seen ^ deriding them.' When describing the 
manner in which Christians had tried it, he ' spoke out of the 
abundance of his heart.' Experience aided his eloquence, and 
added strength to the conviction which it wrought. And it 



EDWARD PAYSON. 345 

would have been listened to with a still greater intenseness of 
interest, had his own trials, mentioned in the preceding chap- 
ter, been known. The application of the subject to his audi- 
tory must be left for imagination to supply ; for it cannot be 
conveyed on paper. 

On pronouncing the blessing, he requested the congrega- 
tion to resume their seats. He descended from the pulpit, 
and took his station in front of it, and commenced a most 
solemn appeal to the assembly. He began with a recognition 
of that feeling in an auditory, which leads them to treat a 
minister's exhortations as if they were merely a discharge of 
professional duty, by one placed above them, and having little 
sympathy with them. ^ I now put aside the minister,' said he ; 
* I come down among you ; place myself on a visible equality ; 
I address you as a fellow man, a friend, a brother, and fellow 
traveller to the bar of God ; as one equally interested with 
yourselves in the truths which I have been declaring.' He 
then gave vent to the struggling emotions of his heart, in a 
strain of affectionate entreaty, expressing the most anxious de- 
sires for their salvation. In conclusion, he referred them to 
the common practice, when men have any great object to ac- 
complish, of assembling together, and adopting resolutions ex- 
pressive of their convictions and purposes ; and he wished his 
hearers to follow him in a series which he was about to pro- 
pose, and to adopt them, not by any visible act or expression, 
but mentally, if they thought them of sufficient importance, 
and could do it sincerely. One resolution expressed a convic- 
tion of the truth of the Bible ; another, of criminal indifference 
to its momentous disclosures; another acknowledged the 
claims of Jehovah ; another, the paramount importance of at- 
tention to the concerns of the soul ; and another, the purpose 
to seek its salvation without delay. Though his withered 
right arm hung helpless by his side, yet he seemed " instinct 
with life ;" and every successive resolution was rendered em- 
phatic by a gesture of the left. 

In all his public ministrations, during this period, when his 
body was sinking towards the grave, there was a singular adapt- 
edness of truth to existing circumstances. The subjects upon 
which he expatiated were in unison with his condition, as a 
servant of God ripening fast for heaven. There was much of 
the nature of testimony for God. He omitted no opportunity, 
public or private, to maintain the honor and perfections of 
Him, whose ambassador he was. He could scarcely utter a 
word, without rendering it obvious to all who heard him, that 
God was higher in his esteem than any, than all created be- 



346 IMEMOIR OF 

ings. One illustration of this statement was afforded by a ser- 
mon which he preached as late as the last Sabbath in April, 
from 2 Samuel xviii. 3 — Thou art worth ten thousand of us. 
Parts of this sermon are reported from recollection, by his el- 
dest daughter, who has been the most successful — where all 
fail — in retaining his characteristic expressions. 

The text, which was addressed to David by his subjects. Dr. 
Payson applied to Jehovah, and illustrated its truth in this ap- 
plication by a variety of methods, showing that God is worth 
ten thousand times ten thousand of human beings ; — yea, worth 
more than all the creatures that ever have been, and all that 
ever will be created : — 

*' Suppose you take the capacity for happiness, which has 
been said by philosophers to be the only true standard of perfec- 
tion : — if the happiness which God enjoys were divided into 
portions, each of which would be sufficient to fill an archangel 
to overflowing, there would be an infinite number of those por- 
tions. God's happiness is not merely a fountain, but an ocean 
without bottom or shore. And this should be a never-failing 
source of consolation to the Christian, when he reflects on all 
the misery in the world, that still happiness predominates ; — 
for God is infinitely — infinitely happy. 

" The man who should go round the universe — suppose, if 
jou will, that each of the numerous millions of stars known to 
astronomers, is the centre of a system, and that each of these 
innumerable worlds is as populous as our own ; — yet the man, 
who should, at one fell stroke, fill all these countless myriads of 
beings to the very brim with wretchedness, would do in- 
finitely less mischief, than he who should, if that were possible, 
destroy the happiness of Jehovah. In the first instance, it 
would be but poisoning the streams ; in the latter, the foun- 
tain itself would be turned into bitterness. * * * 

" Thus we have proved that God is worth infinitely more than 
all his creatures. But, instead of acknowledging and feeling 
this, men practically exalt themselves ten thousand times above 
God. They think ten thousand times as much of themselves as 
of God ; an injury done to themselves affects them ten thousand 
times as much as one done to God ; and Jehovah sees him- 
self cast down — down — down from his throne, to make room 
for little insignificant worms of the dust. And what can be 
worse than this ! Men talk about degrees of wickedness, be- 
cause some have broken the laws of their country, and others 
have not ; but this undervaluing and degrading their Maker 
ia what all have done ; and it is not possible to go farther in 



EDWARD PAYSON. 347 

wickedness. Yes ; this is what I have done, — and I desire to 
make the confession with shame. I have done this ; and you 
have done this, my hearers. In the presence of this much 
insulted God, I must charge it upon you. And I tell you, my 
hearers, if you do not repent of this conduct, God will be obli- 
ged to put you down — down — down, as low as you have degra- 
ded him. If he should not do this, if, out of false pity to one 
individual, he should pardon you without repentance; that in- 
stant, all the songs of heaven would stop, and all the happiness 
of the universe would be dried up. Heaven, the habitation of 
God's glory, where myriads of celestial intelligences are con- 
templating his infinite perfections, would become, from a place 
of perfect and unmingled happiness, a scene of unutterable, in- 
conceivable misery. " Jehovah is no longer worthy to be trust- 
ed ! Jehovah is no longer worthy to be trusted!" would be the 
universal and pathetic exclamation. " We thought there was 
one Being, and only one, on whom we might depend ; but even 
He has failed ; and where now shall we look for perfection 1" 
But, blessed be God, these dreadful imaginings can never be 
realized, for Jehovah will never cliaiigeJ^ 

In this connexion, we shall introduce a paragraph, commu- 
nicated by a ministering brother, who occupied his pulpit cai 
the day in which the interview mentioned took place : — 

" As an instance of his strong fancy, and of the uses to 
which he applied it, I will mention, that, on the last Sabbath 
in which, with great difficulty, he entered the house of God, 
he said to me, — ^ I find in my illness, that the power of imag- 
ination is un weakened, and that it is very easy for me to wan- 
der into the regions of fancy. — On the subject of the wisdom 
of God in the direction of mysterious events, and our duty of 
submission and faith, it has occurred to me recently, that our 
conceptions might be assisted by imagining God to take a hu- 
man form, answering — if it were possible — to his infinite na- 
ture. — What would be its dimensions ? — The angel, in the book 
of Revelation, is represented as standing with one foot on the 
sea, and the other on the land, and lifting up his hand to heav- 
en. But, were God in a form such as I have supposed, one 
foot would be on the remotest star in one direction of infinite 
. space, and the other foot on the remotest star in the opposite 
direction of the unbounded expanse : — and should we propose 
to climb from his feet to the glories of his face, — if we had the 
speed of light, and had been travelling from the creation of the 
world, we should have made little progress in our journey. 



348 MEMOIR OF 

And shall we, then, presumptuously judge of the ways of this 
God, and imagine that we could manage earthly things more 
wisely than he ? Shall we have any doubts as to his unfailing 
wisdom, and perfect rectitude, and infinite goodness V — I have 
not been able to give you his words, but I have given you his 
thoughts." 

Of the penetrating and all-absorbing effect of his last public 
ministrations, particularly at the communion table, some feeble 
conception may be formed from an extract furnished by a gen- 
tleman, who, for twelve years, had been only an occasional 
attendant on his ministry. The first paragraph has no spe- 
cial reference to this period, but may properly be retained for 
the value of its testimony : — 

" At the sacramental table, especially, did his mind appear 
to be absorbed in the contemplation of things unseen and eter- 
nal. To a candid observer it w^as manifest, at such seasons, 
that his " fellowship was with the Father, and with his Son, Je- 
sus Christ." I doubt not that I express the feelings of each 
member of his church, when I say, that often, on these occa- 
sions, he seemed to soar to the third heaven ; and by those fer- 
vent and elevated effusions of thought, with which he always 
accompanied his administration of the ordinance, he literally 
carried the minds, if not the hearts, of his hearers with him. 
His influence, in this respect, is associated with my earliest 
recollections of Dr. Payson. In one particular instance, which 
occurred during my boyhood, such was the absorbing influence 
of his eloquence on my own mind ; arising, doubtless, more from 
the attraction of his fervent zeal, and that creative fancy for 
which he was so remarkably distinguished, than from any special 
regard, on my own part, to the truths he uttered ; that, from the 
commencement of the public services of the afternoon, to the 
close of the sacramental season which succeeded them, it 
seemed like a pleasing reverie ; and had all the eflect of an ocu- 
lar survey of every scene connected with the humiliation and 
exaltation of the Saviour. So strong was the mental impression 
received, that I can still distinctly recollect, not only his text 
on that occasion, — Rev. iv. 3, latter clause, — but also the hymn 
with which the public services were introduced, — H. 25, B. 1, 
Watts. — He seemed to have taken his flight from one of the 
most elevated heights of meditation, and to soar in a climax 
of devotion, and sublimity of thought, until faith changed the 
heavenly vision into a reality, and spread all the glories of re- 
demption around the consecrated symbols of Christ's death. 



Er)WAllD PAYSON. 349 

** 1 had the solemn pleasure^ too, of being present at one of his 
last communion seasons with the church on earth. It was an 
affecting, a soul-cheering scene. Its interest was greatly en- 
hanced by the nearness in which he seemed to stand to the 
communion of the church triumphant. His body was so ema- 
ciated with long and acute suffering, that it was scarcely able 
to sustain the eiSbrt once more imposed upon it ; but his soul, 
raised above its perishing influence, and filled with a joyful tran- 
quillity, seemed entirely regardless of the weakness of its mor- 
tal tenement. His right hand and arm were so palsied by dis* 
ease, as to be quite useless ; except that, in the act of breaking 
the bread, when he could not well dispense with it, he placed 
it on the table with the other handj just as you raise any lifeless 
weight, until it had performed the service required of it. It 
seemed as if he was unwillinij, that even the withered hand 
should be found unemployed in the holy work. Truly, thought 
I, there must be a blessed reality in that religion, which can thus 
make the soul tranquil and happy, in the constant and rapid 
advances of decay and death ! 

" I have never known Dr. Payson when he seemed more 
abstracted from earth than on this occasion. It was, as he sup- 
posed, and as his church feared, their final interview at that ta- 
ble. In all the glowing fervor of devotion, assisted by his ever 
fertile imagination, he contemplated the Saviour as visibly pres- 
ent in the midst of them; and, with his usual eloquence and 
closeness of appeal, he seemed to make each communicant feel, 
that what he had imagined was a reality. There was a breath- 
less silence ; and the solemnity of the scene could hardly have 
been surpassed, if, as he expressed it, the Lord Jesus Christ 
were seen sitting before them; or addressing to each individual 
member the momentous inquiry, *' Lovest thou me?" I can 
say, for one, that the terrors of hypocrisy never swelled so fear^- 
ful, and the realities of the judgment-seat never seemed nearer, 
than at that solemn hour. And I trust I and many others were 
then enabled from the heart to pray, with the Psalmist, Search 
me, O Gody &c. 

" From the occasional opportunities I have enjoyed of attend- 
ing on Dr. Payson' s administration of that ordinance, I can 
have no doubt that they were to him foretastes of that supper 
of the Lamb, on whose more blessed celebration he so trium- 
phantly entered. And it is an interesting, a momentous ques- 
tion, — 

*^ Shall we, who sat with him below, ,.*• 

Commune with him above ?" ' 

30 



350 MEMOIR OF 

On the first of July, he attended public worship, and, after a 
sermon from his assistant, he rose and addressed his people 
thus : — 

" Ever since I became a minister, it has been my earnest 
wish, that I might die of some disease, which would allow me 
to preach a farewell sermon to my people ; but as it is not proba- 
ble that I shall ever be able to do this, I will attempt to say a 
few words now : — it may be the last time that I shall ever ad- 
dress you. This is not merely a presentiment. It is an opin- 
ion founded on facts, and maintained by physicians acquainted 
with my case, that I shall never behold another spring. 

"And now, standing on the borders of the eternal world, I 
look back on my past ministry, and on the manner in which I 
have performed its duties; and, O my hearers, if you have not 
performed your duties better than I have mine, wo ! wo ! be to 
you — unless you have an Advocate and Intercessor in heaven. 
We have lived together twenty years, and have spent more than 
a thousand Sabbaths together, and I have given you at least two 
thousand warnings. I am now going to render an account 
how they were given, and you, my hearers, will soon have to 
render an account how they were received. One more warning 
I will give you. Once more, your shepherd, who will be yours 
no longer, entreats you to flee from the wrath to come. Oh, 
let me have the happiness of seeing my dear people attending 
to their eternal interests, that I may not have reason to say, I 
have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nought." 

At the communion table, the same day, he said, — 

" Christians seem to expect that their views of Christ, and 
love to him, will increase without their using the proper means. 
They should select some scene in his life, and meditate long 
upon it, and strive to bring the circumstances before their minds, 
and imagine how he thought and felt at the time. At first, all 
will appear confused and indistinct; but let them continue to 
look steadily, and the mists will disappear, and their hearts will 
begin to burn with love to their Saviour. At least one scene 
in Christ's life should be thus reviewed every day, if the Chris- 
tian hopes to find his love to his Redeemer increase." 

His public labors were now nearly over ; but he was daily 
and hourly uttering something to rouse the careless, or for the 
instruction, edification, and comfort of God's children. 

To his daughter, who expressed a wish that labor as cer- 
tainly ensured success in spiritual as in temporal affairs, he 
said — **It does; it is just as certain that prayers for spiritual 



EDWARD PAYSON. 35 1 

blessings will be answered, whenever God sees best, as that 
the husbandman, who sows his seed with proper precaution, 
will reap. The only reason that our endeavors to obtain spir- 
itual blessings are not oftener attended with success, is, they 
are not made in earnest. Never omit prayer, or any devotion- 
al exercise, when the stated season for it arrives, because you 
feel indisposed to the duty." 

July 12, 13. On both these days. Dr. Payson seemed a lit- 
tle revived. He had tried sailing around the harbor, and 
found it beneficial. On repeating the experiment, however, he 
discovered that, though these water excursions were of service 
to his lungs, they increased the paralytic affection — if such it 
was — in his arm, and they were relinquished. 

July 22. Sabbath. To his daughter he said, " There is 
nothing in which young converts are more prone to err, than 
in laying too much stress upon their feelings. If they have a 
comfortable half hour in the morning, it atones for a multitude 
of sins in the course of the day. Christ says, ' If ye love me, 
keep my commandments.' It would be well for us to pay more 
attention to our conduct, and prove the depth of our feeling by our 
obedience." He also advised her to observe some plan with 
regard to reading on the Sabbath. In the morning he recom- 
mended reading the Scriptures exclusively, and afterwards 
works intended to convey information respecting religious 
subjects. 

July 29. He remarked to some new converts who called, 
that the most important direction he could give them was, to 
spend much time in retired converse with the Scriptures, and 
with God. " If you wished to cherish the remembrance of an 
absent friend, you would read over his letters daily, meditate, 
on his acts of kindness to you, and look at any tokens of affec- 
tion which he might have left you.'' 

" We are accustomed to suppose that God's feelings to- 
wards us vary according to our own; that when we are in a 
lively spiritual frame of mind, he regards us with more com- 
placency than at other times. This is not the case. The feel- 
ings with which God regards us do not fluctuate like ours." 

Aug. 5. Sabbath. This day, he entered the meeting-house 
for the last time; and this month completes twenty years, 
since he entered it, the first time, as a preacher — then a 
trembling youtb, now the spiritual father of many hundreds ; 



352 MEMOIR OF 

then just girded for the warfare, now the veteran, who had 
*' fought the good fight,'^ and was just going to resign his com- 
mission, and receive a crown of unfading glory. — He made a 
great effort to go out, as there were twenty-one persons to be 
admitted to the churcli. He was supported into the house by 
his senior deacons ; and, although he merely read the cove- 
nant, and remained during the administration of the sacrament, 
he was exceedingly overcome. Most of the persons present 
were much affected, and, after the services, many crowded 
around him, to take his hand for the last time. 

Aug. 8. He had a violent nervous head-ache ; and was 
much interrupted in speaking by a difficulty of breathing ; but 
said, in a cheerful voice, to some of his church who were in, 
— '^ I want you always to believe that God is faithful. How- 
ever dark and mysterious any of his dispensations may appear, 
still confide in him. He can make you happy when every 
thing else is taken from you." He baptized several children at 
his own house, but the exertion was too much for him. 

Aug. 13. He received from a society of young men in his 
parish, who were associated for religious improvement, a letter, 
in which they generously offered to give his son a liberal educa- 
tion. The following is his answer: — 

^^To the Society for Religious Improvement. 

'' Beloved Brethren; 

'^ No act of kindness, which it was in the power of man to 
show, could have been more soothing to my anxieties as a 
dying parent, or more grateful to a dying minister, than your 
unexpected and most generous offer to furnish the means of a 
liberal education to my oldest son. 

'' Most fervently do I thank you for making this offer, and 
the Author of all good for inducing you to do it. To see him 
thus already beginning to take care of a family, which I must 
soon leave, is a great encouragement to my faith, that he will 
continue to take care of them after I am gone. 

^* If it is any satisfaction to you to know that you have as- 
sisted to smooth your pastor's dying pillow, and shed light on 
his last hours, you may feel that satisfaction in a very high 
degree. With most earnest prayers that God would reward 
you abundantly for this kind offer, I have concluded to accept 
it, provided that my son, when he shall have attained the age 
of sixteen, shall be found to possess such a character as will 



EDWARD PAYSON. 353 

justify a hope that he will make a good use of the advantages 
with which you generously furnish him. And now, brethren, 
farewell " 

During this month, his "wreck of being" was further shatter- 
ed by a spasmodic cough, which at times threatened absolute 
strangulation. 

Sept, 4. He said to his wife and daughter — " I do not 
think you are sufficiently thankful for my consolations, or 
realize how wonderful it is that I am thus supported. Owing 
to my natural activity, and unwillingness to be dependent on 
others for the supply of my wants, these triak are exactly those 
which are most calculated to make me miserable. But God 
can sweeten the bitterest cup." 

He afterwards said, with emotions which would hardly allow 
him to speak, — '* Oh, my daughter, how you will regret, when 
you come to see how good God is, that you did not serve him 
better. Oh! he is so good, so good." 

Sept. 9. During the preceding week, he had rode out 
several times, being carried down stairs, and lifted into the 
chaise. For a few days, he thought himself better ; but these 
favorable appearances were of short duration. He remarked, 
that sometimes, in order to try his people's faith, God gives 
them a prospect that an affliction is about to be removed, and 
then permits it to return again. He compared his present case 
to that of a man, who, after having been a long time confined 
in prison, finds his door open one morning ; but, on attempting 
to leave it, the door is suddenly closed with such violence, as 
to throw him prostrate on the floor. 

He was asked, on this day, by some of his friends, if he could 
see any particular reason for this dispensation. — " No," 
replied he ; " but I am as well satisfied as if I could see ten 
thousand. God's will is the very perfection of all reason." 

In answer to the question, by a lady from B., Are you better 
than you were ? he replied, " Not in body, but in mind. If my 
happiness continues to increase, I cannot support it much long- 
er." On being asked, Are your views of heaven clearer and 
brighter than ever before ? he said, — " Why, for a few moments, 
I may have had as bright ; but formerly my joys were tumul- 
tuous . now all is ca^m and peaceful." He was asked, " In 
30* 



354 MEMOIR OF 

your anticipations of heaven, do you think of meeting departed 
friends?'' After a moment's reflection, he said, with a most ex- 
pressive countenance, " If I meet Christ, 'tis no matter vi^heth- 
er I see others or not — though I shall want some to help me 
praise him." He doubtless had an opinion on this subject ; 
but he remembered Christ's answer to the question, " Are 
there few that be saved ?" 

** God deals strangely with his creatures, to promote their 
happiness. Who would have thought that I must be reduced 
to this state, helpless and crippled, to experience the highest 
enjoyment !" 

" You ought to feel happy, all ought to feel happy, who come 
here, for they are within a few steps of heaven." During the 
course of this conversation, he repeated this verse, *^ Thy sun 
shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; 
for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of 
thy mourning shall be ended." Turning to a young lady pres- 
ent, he said, *' Do you not think this is worth travelling over 
many high hills and difficult places to obtain ?" ** Give my 
love to my friends in Boston ; tell them all I ever said in praise 
of God or religion falls infinitely below the truth." 

" Dr. Clarke, in his travels, speaking of the companies that 
were travelling from the East to Jerusalem, represents the pro- 
cession as being very long ; and, after climbing over the extend- 
ed and heavy ranges of hills that bounded the way, some of 
the foremost at length reached the top of the last hill, and, 
stretching up their hands in gestures of joy, cried out, *' The 
Holy City ! the Holy City !" — and fell down and worshipped; 
while those who were behind pressed forward to see. — So the 
dying Christian, when he gets on the last summit of life, and 
stretches his vision to catch a glimpse of the heavenly city, may 
cry out of its glories, and incite those who are behind to press 
forward to the sight." 

To a clergyman — '* Oh, if ministers only saw the inconceiv- 
able glory that is before them, and the preciousness of Christ, 
they would not be able to refrain from going about, leaping 
and clapping their hands for joy, and exclaiming, I'm a minister 
of Christ ! I'm a minister of Christ !" 

" When I read Bunyan's description of the land of Beulah, 
whe-e the sun shines and the birds sing day and night, I used 



EDWARD PAYSON. 355 

to doubt whether there was such a place ; but now my own ex- 
perience has convinced me of it, and it infinitely transcends all 
my previous conceptions." 

*' I think the happiness I enjoy is similar to that enjoyed by 
glorified spirits before the resurrection." 

Sept, 16. Sabbath. He awaked exclaiming, '' I am going 
to mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to the heavenly 
Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the gener- 
al assembly and church of the first born, and to God the Judge 
of all." 

During the night of September 17th, he was seized with 
spasms, which, it seemed, must separate soul and body. It 
was not thought by his physician, that he could survive a sec- 
ond attack ; but his hold on life remained, though the spasms 
continued to return every succeeding night with more or less 
violence. Every new attack seemed, however, to strengthen the 
energies of his mind.* No better evidence of this can be 
desired, than is exhibited in a letter which he dictated to his 
sister : — 



" Sept. 19. 
'^ Dear Sister, 

** Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan, I might 
date this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been 
for some weeks a happy inhabitant. The celestial city is full 
in my view. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its 
odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and 
its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me 
from it but the river of death, which now appears but as an insig- 
nificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God 
shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has been grad- 
ually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter 
as he approached, and now he fills the whole hemisphere ; pour- 
ing forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect 
in the beams of the sun ; exulting, yet almost trembling, while 
I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unut- 
terable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sin- 
ful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether 



' The soul's dark cottag-e, shattered and decayed, 
Let in new light through chinks which time had made.' 



356 MEMOIR OF 

inadequate to my wants : I want a whole heart for every sepa- 
rate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that emotion. 

" But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings ? why 
not speak only of our God and Redeemer ? It is because I 
know not what to say. When I would speak of them, my words 
are all swallowed up. I can only tell you what effects their 
presence produces, and even of these I can tell you but very 
little. O, my sister, my sister ! could you but know what 
awaits the Christian ; could you know only so much as I know, 
you could not refrain from rejoicing, and even leaping for joy. 
Labors, trials, troubles, would be nothing : you would rejoice 
in afflictions, and glory in tribulations; and, like Paul and Silas, 
sing God's praises in the darkest night, and in the deepest dun- 
geon. You have known a little of my trials and conflicts, and 
know that they have been neither few nor small ; and I hope 
this glorious termination of them will serve to strengthen your 
faith, and elevate your hope. 

''And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on your 
Christian course but a few days longer, and you will meet in 
heaven, 

" Your happy and affectionate brother, 

" Edward Payson.'' 

The next day, he sent for the editor of a religious journal, 
and expressed his wishes in regard to the disposition which 
should be made of a certain class of effusions, which his exit 
would probably call forth— adding, *' I make this request about 
as much for your sake as my own.'' He had then survived 
three or four of these dreadful nocturnal attacks, but observed 
that he could not calculate upon surviving another. In an- 
swer to the question, why he was thus affected in the night, 
rather than the day, — he proceeded, with as much readiness 
as if it had been the study of his life, to give a philosophical 
account of the change which takes place in the body, in its 
transit from a state of wakefulness to that of sleep. " Then," 
said he, — that is, as soon as the will resigns its power over the 
muscles and organs of the body — *' then my diseases commence 
their gambols !" 

To his daughter, who was obliged to defer a contemplated 
undertaking by an approaching storm, he turned, and said with 
a smile — " I suppose you feel as if the equinox ought to be 
deferred on account of your school." 

Sept, 21. " O, what a blessed thing it is to lose one's will ! 
S^nce I have lost my will, I have found happiness. There 



EDWARD PAYSON. 357 

can be no such thing as disappointment to me, for I have no 
desires but that God's will may be accomplished." 

" I have been all my life like a child w^hose father wishes 
to fix his undivided attention. At first, the child runs about 
the room, — but his father ties up his feet ; he then plays with 
his hands, until they likewise are tied. Thus he continues to 
do, till he is completely tied up ; then, when he can do nothing 
else, he will attend to his father. Just so God has been deal- 
ing with me, to induce me to place my happiness in him alone. 
But I blindly continued to look for it here, and God has kept 
cutting off one source of enjoyment after another, till I find 
that I can do without them all, and yet enjoy more happiness 
than ever in my life before." 

*^ It sounds so flat, when people tell me that it is just for God 
to afflict me, as if justice did not require infinitely more." 

He was asked, " Do you feel reconciled?" — *'0! that is too 
cold. I rejoice, I triumph ! and this happiness will endure as 
long as God himself, for it consists in admiring and adoring 
him." 

" I can find no words to express my happiness. I seem to 
be swimming in a river of pleasure, which is carrying me on 
to the great fountain.'' 

Sabbath morning, Sept. 23d, he said, — " Last night I had 
a full, clear view of Death as the king of terrors ; how he comes 
and crowds the poor sinner to the very verge of the precipice of 
destruction, and then pushes him down headlong ! But I felt 
that I had nothing to do with this ; and I loved to sit like an 
infant at the feet of Christ, who saved me from this fate. I felt 
that death was disarmed of all its terrors ; all he could do would 
be to touch me, and let my soul loose to go to my Saviour." 

" Christians are like passengers setting out together in a ship 
for some distant country. Very frequently one drops over- 
board ; but his companions know that he has only gone a short- 
er way to the same port ; and that, when they arrive there, they 
shall find him ; so that all they lose is his company during the 
rest of the voyage." 

** I long to measure out a full cup of happiness to every 
body, but Christ wisely keeps that prerogative in his own 
hands ' 



358 MEMOIR OB^ 

" It seems as if all the bottles of heaven were opened ; and 
all its fulness and happiness, and, I trust, no small portion of 
its benevolence, is come down into my heart." 

" I am more and more convinced, that the happiness of heav- 
en is a benevolent happiness. In proportion as my joy has 
increased, I have been filled with intense love to all creatures, 
and a strong desire that they might partake of my happiness." 

Sept. 26. In answer to some complaints of one of the fam- 
ily, he said — ** Perhaps there is nothing more trying to the 
faith and patience of Christians, or which appears to them more 
mysterious, than the small supplies of grace which they receive, 
and the delays which they meet with in having their prayers 
answered ; so that they are sometimes ready to say, It is in vain 
to wait upon the Lord any longer. He then mentioned the 
text, ** Wherefore gird up the loins of your minds, be sober, 
and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto 
you at the revelation of Jesus Christ" A large portion of 
the grace which Christians are to receive will be given to 
them at the second coming of Christ, or immediately after 
death ; and this will always be in proportion to their prayers 
and exertions here. Christians need not, therefore, be dis- 
couraged at the slow progress they make, and the little success 
which attends their eiforts ; for they may be assured that every 
exertion is noticed, and will be rewarded, by their heavenly 
Father." 

To a young convert he said, — ^' You will have to go through 
many conflicts and trials ; you must be put in the furnace, and 
tempted, and tried, in order to show you what is in your heart. 
Sometimes it will seem as if Satan had you in his power, and 
that the more you struggle and pray against sin, the more it 
prevails against you. But when you are thus tried and de- 
sponding, remember me ; I have gone through all this, and 
now you see the end." 

To another — '' You recollect the story of David rescuing 
the lamb from the lion and the bear. David loved the Iamb 
before he rescued it from danger ; but he loved it more after- 
wards. So Christ loves all his creatures; but he loves them 
more after he has taken them into his fold, and owned them 
as the p« rchase of his precious blood." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 359 

" Christians might avoid much trouble and inconvenience, 
if they would only believe what they profess, — that God is able 
to make them happy without any thing else. They imagine that 
if such a dear friend were to die, or such and such blessings to 
be removed, they should be miserable ; whereas God can make 
them a thousand times happier without them. To mention my 
own case, — God has been depriving me of one blessing after 
another ; but, as every one was removed, he has come in and 
filled up its place ; and now, when I am a cripple, and not able 
to move, I am happier than ever I was in my life before, or ever 
expected to be, and, if I had believed this twenty years ago, 
I might have been spared much anxiety." 

** If God had told me some time ago, that he was about to 
make me as happy as I could be in this world, and then had told 
me that he should begin by crippling me in all my limbs, and re- 
moving me from all my usual sources of enjoyment ; I should 
have thought it a very strange mode of accomplishing his pur- 
pose. And yet, how is his wisdom manifest even in this ! for 
if you should see a man shut up in a close room, idolizing a set 
of lamps, and rejoicing in their light, and you wished to make 
him truly happy, you would begin by blowing out all his lamps ; 
and then throw open the shutters, to let in the light of heaven." 

" Suppose a son is walking with his father, in whose wis- 
dom he places the most entire confidence. He follows wher- 
ever his father leads, though it may be through thorns and bri- 
ers, cheerfully and contentedly. — Another son, we will suppose, 
distrusts his father's wisdom and love, and, when the path is 
rough or uneven, begins to murmur and repine, wishing that 
he might be allowed to choose his own path; and though he 
is obliged to follow, it is with great reluctance and discontent. 
Now, the reason that Christians in general do not enjoy more 
of God's presence, is, that they are not willing to walk in his 
path, when it crosses their own inclinations. But we shall 
never be happy, until we acquiesce with perfect che^rfiilness 
in all his decisions, and follow wherever he leads without a 
murmur." 

After it had become certain that he would never again leave 
his chamber till he was carried out, yet, being unceasingly de- 
sirous to benefit his people, he sent a request, which was an- 
nounced from the pulpit, that they would repair to his chamber. 
Once, it is believed, they came indiscriminately ; at other times 
in spec'fied classes, including as many as the chamber could 



S60 MEMOIR OP 

contain. When he had addressed to them collectively his last 
most solemn and affectionate counsel, till compelled to desist 
by the failure of his strength, he took them individually by the 
hand, and, with a heavenly smile, bade them farewell ! 

To members of his congregation, he spoke nearly as fol- 
lows : — 

" It has often been remarked, that people who have been in- 
to the other world, cannot come back to tell us what they have 
seen ; but I am so near the eternal world, that I can see almost 
as clearly as if I were there ; and I see enough to satisfy my- 
self, at least, of the truth of the doctrines which I have preach- 
ed. I do not know that I should feel at all surer, had I been 
really there. 

^* It is always interesting to see others in a situation in which 
we know that we must shortly be placed ourselves ; and we 
all know that we must die. And to see a poor creature, when, 
after an alternation of hopes and fears, he finds that his disease 
is mortal, and death comes to tear him away from every thing 
he loves, and crowds, and crowds him to the very verge of the 
precipice of destruction, and then thrusts him down headlong ! 
— There he is, cast into an unknown world : no friend, no Sav- 
iour to receive him. 

*' O, how different is this from the state of a man who is pre- 
pared to die. He is not obliged to be crowded reluctantly 
along ; but the other world comes like a great magnet, to draw 
him away from this ; and he knows that he is going to enjoy, 
— and not only knows, but begins to taste it, — perfect happi- 
ness ; forever and ever ; forever and ever !***** 

" And now God is in this room ; I see him ; and O, how 
unspeakably lovely and glorious does he appear, — worthy of 
ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had them. He is here, 
and hears me pleading with the creatures that he has made, 
whom he preserves, and loads with blessings, to love him. — 
And O, how terrible does it appear to me, to sin against this 
God ; to set up our wills in opposition to his, and, when we 
awake in the morning, instead of thinking, ** What shall I do 
to please my God to-day ?" to inquire, *' What shall I do to 
please myself to-day V After a short pause he continued, 
** It makes my blood run cold to think how inexpressibly mis- 
erable I should now be without religion. To lie here, and see 
myself tottering on the verge of destruction ! — O, I should be 
distracted ! And when I see my fellow-creatures liable every 
moment to be reduced to this situation, I am in an agony for 
them, that they may escape their danger before it be too late. 



EDWARD PAYSON. ggX 

When people repent, they begin to see God's infinite perfec- 
tions, how amiable and glorious he is, and the heart relents 
and mourns that it has treated him so ungratefully. 

" Suppose we should hear the sound of a man's voice plead- 
ing earnestly with some one, but could not distinguish the 
words; and we should inquire, ' What is that man pleading for 
so earnestly V * O, he is only pleading with a fellow creature 
to love his God, his Saviour, his Preserver and Benefactor. He 
is only pleading with him not to throw away his immortal soul, 
not to pull down everlasting wretchedness upon his own head. 
He is only persuading him to avoid eternal misery, and to ac- 
cept eternal happiness.' * Is it possible,' we should exclaim, 
* that any persuasion can be necessary for this V and yet it is 
necessary. O my firiends, do, do love this glorious Being — do 
seek for the salvation of your immortal souls. Hear the voice 
of your dying minister, while he entreats you to care for your 
souls." 

He afterwards said, — *' I am always sorry when I say any 
thing to any one who comes in ; it seems so inadequate to 
what I wish to express. The words sink right down under 
the weight of the meaning I wish to convey." 

On another occasion, — '^ I find no satisfaction in looking at 
any thing I have done ; I want to leave all this behind, — it is 
nothing, — and fly to Christ to be clothed in his righteousness." 

Again, — " I have done nothing myself I have not fought, 
but Christ has fought for me ; I have not run, but Christ has 
carried me ; I have not worked, but Christ has wrought in 
me ; — Christ has done all." 

The perfections of God were to him a well-spring of joy, 
and the promises were '* breasts of consolation," whence his 
soul drew its comfort and its aliment. — " O !" exclaimed he, 
'* the loving kindness of God — his loving kindness ! This af- 
ternoon, while I was meditating on it, the Lord seemed to pass 
by, and proclaim himself * The Lord, the Lord God, merciful 
and gracious !' O how gracious ! Try to conceive of that, 
his loving-kindness, as if it were not enough to say kindness, 
but — loving kindness. What must be the loving kindness of 
God, who is himself infinite love !" 

" It seemed this aflernoon as if Christ said to me, ' You have 
often wondered and been impatient at the way by which I 
31 



362 MEMOIR OF 

have led you ; but what do you think of it now V And I was 
cut to the heart, when I looked back and saw the wisdom and 
goodness by which I had been guided, that I could ever for a 
moment distrust his love." 

A clergyman from another state, who visited Dr. Pay son 
about this stage of his illness, gave the following account of 
the interview in a letter to a friend : — 

" His eye beams with the same animation as ever. The 
muscles of his face are unaffected by that which has spread all 
but death throughout the other parts oif his system. — When I 
entered the chamber, addressing me with a smile, he said, ** I 
have no hand to welcome you with, but I am glad to see you.'* 
I observed to him, that I was reluctant to lay any tax upon him 
in his present weak state, but had felt desirous to see him a 
moment. He replied that he did not feel parsimonious of the 
poor remains of strength he had left : he had got so near 
through, that it was not worth while to be solicitous about 
saving for future time. He conversed in a low, audible voice, 
and in the same strain of pointed, pithy remark as when in 
health. He observed, that the point in which he believed 
ministers generally failed most, and in which he had certainly 
failed most, was in doing duty professionally, and not from the 
heart. I could not but say to him, that, probably, his practice 
had been marked with less of this error than that of most oth- 
ers. He seemed pained with the thought that any should be 
more deficient than he had been : " O, I hope it is not so ! I 
hope it is not so !" Referring to the peace which the gospel 
afforded him under his trials, he said, " I have never half val- 
ued, as I ought, the doctrines which I have preached. The 
system is great and glorious, and is worthy of our utmost ef- 
forts to promote it. The interests depending will justify us in 
our strongest measures. In every respect we may embark our 
all upon it; it will sustain us." 

" Speaking of the temper requisite to the right discharge of 
ministerial duty, he said, *' I never was fit to say a word to a 
sinner, except when I had a broken heart myself; when I was 
subdued and melted into penitence, and felt as though I had 
just received pardon to my own soul, and when my heart was 
full of tenderness and pity — no anger, no anger." He ex- 
pressed himself with great earnestness respecting the grace of 
God as exercised in saving lost men, and seemed particularly 
affected that it should be bestowed on one so ill deserving as 



EDWARD PAYSON. 363 

himself. " O how sovereign ! O how sovereign ! Grace is 
the only thing that can make us like God. I might be drag- 
ged through heaven, earth and hell, and I should be still the 
same sinful, polluted wretch, unless God himself should renew 
and cleanse me." — He inquired whether I could preach to his 
people on the morrow. Being told that I was not well, he re- 
plied, ** Then do not preach ; I have too often preached when 
I was not able." 

** On taking leave, I expressed a hope that he might con- 
tinue to enjoy the presence of God, and receive even increas- 
ing peace, if he could bear it. ^' O !" said he, ** when we 
meet in heaven, we shall see how little we know about it." 
His whole manner and appearance is that of a man who has 
drunk into the spirit of heaven far more deeply than those 
around him." 

October 7. In conversation with his eldest daughter, on 
being asked whether self-examination was not a very difficult 
duty for young Christians to perform, he replied, ** Yes ; and 
for old ones too, because it is displeasing to the pride of the 
heart, because wandering thoughts are then most apt to in- 
trude, and because of the deceitfulness of the heart. When a 
Christian first begins to look into his heart, he sees nothing 
but confusion ; a heap of sins, and a very little good, mixed up 
together ; and he knows not how to separate them, or how to 
begin self-examination. But let him persevere in his efforts, 
and soon order will arise out of confusion." — She mentioned 
to him a passage in the life of Mr. Alleine, which led him 
to say, " We never confess any faults that we consider really 
disgraceful. We complain of our hardness of heart, stupidity, 
&c. ; but we never confess envy or covetousness, or revenge, or 
any thing that we suppose will lower us in the opinion of oth- 
ers ; and this proves that we do not feel ashamed of coldness 
or stupidity. In short, when young Christians make confes- 
sions, unless there is an obvious call for them, it usually pro- 
ceeds from one of these three motives ; — either they wish to be 
thought very humble, and to possess great knowledge of their 
own hearts ; or they think it is a fault which the other has 
perceived, and are willing to have the credit of having discov- 
ered and striven against it ; or they confess some fault, from 
which they are remarkably fi-ee, in order to elicit a compli- 
ment. 

*' There are no two feelings apparently more unlike than 
mortified pride and gratified pride ; yet they are in reality very 
similar ; and we are indulging one of these feelings almost con- 



364 MEMOIR OF 

stantly. When God permits every thing to go on very smooth- 
ly, and grants us some comforts, our pride is gratified ; we are 
pleased with ourselves, with God,— and call the feeling grati- 
tude, — and with those around us ; . we can be very pleasant 
and obliging. But let this state of things be reversed; let our 
corruptions be suffered to break loose, and trials and conflicts 
to assail us, — then our pride is mortified ; we begin to fret and 
repine, and say that all our endeavors are useless. You can- 
not yet conceive how very small a portion of grace we have; so 
that, if we doubt whether matter is infinitely divisible, we can 
hardly doubt that grace is soJ\ 

" With regard to self-examination, we should always have, 
as it were, our eye turned inward, to watch our motives and 
feelings. We should also, at night, review the conduct of the 
day ; and it would aid you to do this, if you made an abstract 
of the duties you owe to God and to your fellow-creatures in 
the several relations of life, and also of your besetting sins. 
But the most important direction I can give you, is, to look to 
Christ ; for while we are contemplating his perfections, we in- 
sensibly imbibe his spirit." 

Notwithstanding his deep seriousness, there was occasionally 
a pleasantry in his manner of expressing hims^elf, which would 
excite an involuntary smile : — "What contrary and unreasona- 
ble creatures we are ! The more God does for us, the less we 
thank him. Here I am, stripped of more than half my bless- 
ings, as we ordinarily estimate them, and yet I never felt half 
so grateful to God before. We are just like the harlequin, 
when hired to mourn, of whom his employer said, ' The bet- 
ter I pay him, the more he won't grieve V " 

A gray-headed member of his church, who is usually very 
abrupt in his address, but generally very scriptural, entered his 
chamber one day with the salutation — " Watchman, what of 
the night?" — " I should think it was about noon-day" — was 
the answer. 

On Sabbath day, Oct. 7,* it was the privileged lot of the 
young men of the society to assemble, at his request, in his 
chamber, when he addressed them in substance as follows : — 

" My young friends, you will all one day be obliged to em- 
bark on the same voyage, on which I am just embarking ; and 

* The dates in this chapter fix the time to which a part only of his observa- 
tions must be referred j generally the first, or first two or three paragraphs, which 
follow them. The precise date of most of them is not recollected. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 365 

as it has been my especial employment, during my past life, to 
recommend to you a Pilot to guide you through this voyage, I 
wished to tell you what a precious Pilot he is, that you may be 
induced to choose him for yours. I felt desirous that you 
might see that the religion I have preached can support me in 
death. You know that I have many ties which bind me to 
earth ; — a family to whom I am strongly attached, and a peo- 
ple whom I love almost as well : — but the other world acts like 
a much stronger magnet, and draws my heart away from this. 
Death comes every night, and stands by my bedside in the form 
of terrible convulsions, every one of which threatens to separate 
the soul from the body. These continue to grow worse and 
worse, until every bone is almost dislocated with pain, leaving me 
with the certainty that I shall have it all to endure again the next 
night. Yet, while my body is thus tortured, the soul is perfect- 
ly, perfectly happy and peaceful — more happy than I can pos- 
sibly express to you. I lie here, and feel these convulsions ex- 
tending higher and higher, without the least uneasiness ; but 
my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. I seem to swim in a 
flood of glory which God pours down upon me. And I know, 
I know, that my happiness is but begun ; I cannot doubt that it 
will last for ever. And now is this all a delusion 1 Is it a de- 
lusion which can fill the soul to overflowing with joy in such 
circumstances ? If so, it is surely a delusion better than any 
reality. But no, it is not a delusion ; I feel that it is not. I do 
not merely know that I shall enjoy all this — / enjoy it now. 

** My young friends, — were I master of the whole world, 
what could it do for me like this ? Were all its wealth at my 
feet, and all its inhabitants striving to make me happy, what 
could they do for me ? Nothing ! — nothing. Now, all this hap- 
piness I trace back to the religion which I have preached, and 
to the time when that great change took place in my heart, 
which I have often told you is necessary to salvation ; and I 
now tell you again, that without this change, you cannot, no, 
you cannot, see the kingdom of God. 

*^ And now, standing, as I do, on the ridge which separates the 
two worlds, feeling what intense happiness or misery the soul 
is capable of sustaining ; judging of your capacities by my own, 
and believing that those capacities will be filled to the very 
brim with joy or wretchedness for ever ; can it be wondered at, 
that my heart yearns over you, my children, that you may 
choose life, and not death ? Is it to be wondered at, that I long 
to present every one of you with a full cup of happiness, and 
see you drink it; that I long to have you make the same 
choice which I made, and from which springs all my happiness ? 
31* 



366 MEMOIR OF 

" A young man, just about to leave this world, exclaimed, 
' The battle's fought ! the battle's fought ! the battle's fought ! 
but the victory is lost for ever.' But I can say, The battle's 
fought, and the victory is won ! the victory is won, for ever ! I 
am going to bathe in an ocean of purity, and benevolence, and 
happiness, to all eternity. And now, my children, let me bless 
you ; not with the blessing of a poor, feeble, dying man, but 
with the blessing of the infinite God. The grace of God, and 
the love of Christ, and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be 
with all, and each one of you, for ever and ever : amen." 

Having delivered his dying messages to all classes among his 
own flock, he commissioned a ministering brother to bear one 
to the association of ministers, who were to meet in a few days. 
The purport of it was — * a hearty assurance of the ardent love 
with which he remembered them even in death ; an exhorta- 
tion to love one another with a pure heart fervently ; to love 
their work, to be diligent in it, to expect success, to bear up 
under their discouragements, be faithful unto death, and look 
for their reward in heaven.' — I rejoice, said the brother, re- 
joice more than I can express, to be the bearer of such a mes- 
sage ; for you, perhaps, are aware that many of your brethren 
have thought you distant, and reserved, and as having cherish- 
ed too little of a fellow-feeling towards them. — *' I know it," 
said he ; '' but my apparent reserve was not owing to any want 
of affection for them, but to a very different cause : I have 
been all my days, like a soldier in the forefront of the hottest 
battle, so intent in fighting for my own life, that / could not 
see who was falling around me.^^ 

While speaking of the rapturous views he had of the heaven- 
ly world, he was asked if it did not seem almost like the clear 
light of vision, rather than that of faith. *' Oh !" he replied, " I 
don't know — it is too much for the poor eyes of my soul to 
bear ! — they are almost blinded with the excessive brightness. 
All I want is to be a mirror, to reflect some of those rays to 
those around me." 

" My soul, instead of growing weaker and more languishing, 
as my body does, seems to be endued with an angel's ener- 
gies, and to be ready to break from the body, and join those 
around the throne." 

A firiend, with whom he had been conversing on his extreme 
bodily sufferings, and his high spiritual joys, remarked — " I 
presume it is no longer incredible to you, if ever it was, that 
martyrs should rejoice and praise God in the flames and on the 



EDWARD PAYSON. 207 

rack." — " No/' said he, " I can easily believe it. I have suf- 
fered twenty times — yes, to speak within bounds — twenty times 
as much as I could in being burnt at the stake, while my joy 
in God so abounded, as to render my sufferings not only toler- 
able, but welcome. The sufferings of this present time are not 
worthy to he compared with the glory that shall he revealed^ 

At another time, — " God is literally now my all in all. 
While he is present with me, no event can in the least dimin- 
ish my happiness ; and were the whole world at my feet, trying 
to minister to my comfort, they could not add one drop to the 
cup." 

" It seems as if the promise, '^ God shall wipe away all tears 
from their eyes," was already fulfilled to me, as it respects 
tears of sorrow. I have no tears to shed now, but those of love, 
and joy, and thankfulness." 

Oct. 16. To his daughter, — " You will avoid much pain 
and anxiety, if you will learn to trust all your concerns in God's 
hand. ' Cast all your care upon him, for he careth for you.' 
But if you merely go and say that you cast your care upon 
him, you will come away with the load on your shoulders. If 
I had the entire disposal of your situation, and could decide 
how many scholars you should have, and what success you 
should meet with, you would feel no anxiety, but would rely 
on my love and wisdom ; and if you should discover any solici- 
tude, it would show that you distrusted one or the other of 
these. Now all your concerns are in the hands of a merciful 
and wise Father ; therefore, it is an insult to him to be careful 
and anxious concerning them. Trust him for all, — abilities, 
success, and every thing else, — and you will never have reason 
to repent it.' ' 

At one time, he was heard to break forth in the following 
soliloquy : — 

" What an assemblage of motives to holiness does the gospel 
present ! I am a Christian — what then ? Why, I am a re- 
deemed sinner — a pardoned rebel — all through grace, and by 
the most wonderful means which infinite wisdom could devise. 
I am a Christian — what then ] Why, I am a temple of God, 
and surely I ought to be pure and holy. I am a Christian — 
what then ? I am a child of God, and ought to be filled with 
filial love, reverence, joy, and gratitude. I am a Christian^^ 



368 MEMOIR OF 

what then ? Why, I am a disciple of Christ, and must imitate 
him who was meek and lowly in heart, and pleased not him- 
self. I am a Christian — what then ? Why, I am an heir of 
heaven, and hastening on to the abodes of the blessed, to join 
the full choir of glorified ones, in singing the song of Moses 
and the Lamb ; and surely I ought to learn that song on earth." 

To Mrs. Payson, who, while ministering to him, had observ- 
ed, " Your head feels hot, and seems to be distended," he re- 
plied — '^ It seems as if the soul disdained such a narrow pris- 
on, and was determined to break through with an angel's en- 
ergy, and, I trust, with no small portion of an angel's feeling, 
until it mounts on high.'' 

Again, — '^ It seems as if my soul had found a pair of new 
wings, and was so eager to try them, that, in her fluttering, she 
would rend the fine net- work of the body to pieces." 

At another time, — -^^ My dear, I should think it might encour- 
age and strengthen you, under whatever trials you may be 
called to endure, to remember me. O ! you must believe that 
it will be great peace at last." 

At another time, he said to her, — " After I am gone, you will 
find many little streams of beneficence pouring in upon you, 
and you will perhaps say, ' I wish my dear husband were here 
to know this.' My dear, you may think that I do know it by 
anticipation, and praise God for it now." 

" Hitherto I have viewed God as a fixed Star, bright indeed, 
but often intercepted by clouds ; but now he is coming near- 
er and nearer, and spreads into a Sun so vast and glorious, that 
the sight is too dazzling for flesh and blood to sustain." This 
was not a blind adoration of an imaginary deity ; for, added 
he, '^ I see clearly that all these same glorious and dazzling 
perfections, which now only serve to kindle my aflections into 
a flame, and to melt down my soul into the same blessed im- 
age, would burn and scorch me like a consuming fire, if I 
were an impenitent sinner." 

He said he felt no solicitude respecting his family ; he could 
trust them all in the hands of Christ. To feel any undue so- 
licitude on their account, or to be unwilling to leave them with 
God, would be like * a child who was reluctant to go to school, 
lest his father should burn up his toys and play-things, while 
he was absent.' 



EDWARD PAYSON. 369 

Conversing with a friend on his preparation for his depart- 
ure, he compared himself to " a person who had been visiting 
his friends, and was about to return home. His trunk was 
packed, and every thing prepared, and he was looking out of 
the window, waiting for the stage to take him in." 

When speaking of the sufferings he endured, particularly the 
sensation of burning in his side and left leg, he said that, if he 
expected to live long enough to make it worth while, he would 
have his leg taken off. On Mrs. Payson's uttering some ex- 
pression of surprise, he replied — '' I have not a very slight 
idea of the pain of amputation ; yet I have no doubt that I 
suffer more every fifteen minutes, than I should in having my 
leg taken off.'' 

His youngest child, about a year old, had been under the 
care of a friend, and was to be removed a few miles out of 
town ; but he expressed so strong a wish to see Charles first, 
that he was sent for. The look of love, and tenderness, and 
compassion, with which he regarded the child, made an indel- 
ible impression on all present. 

At his request, some of the choir, belonging to the congre- 
gation, came a few days before his death, for the purpose of 
singing, for his gratification, some of the songs of Zion. He 
selected the one commencing, " Rise, my soul, and stretch thy 
wings ;" part of the hymn, '' I'll praise my Maker with my 
breath ;" and the:'* Dying Christian to his Soul." 

Sabbath day, October 21st, his last agony commenced. 
This holy man, who had habitually said of his racking pains, 
*' These are God's arrows, but they are all sharpened with 
love" — and who, in the extremity of suffering, had been ac- 
customed to repeat, as a favorite expression, " I will bless the 
Lord at aU times,'' — had yet the *' dying strife" to encounter. 
It commenced with the same difficulty of respiration, though 
in an aggravated degree, which had caused him great distress 
at intervals, during his sickness. His daughter, who had gone 
to the Sabbath school, without any apprehensions of so sudden 
a change, was called home. Though laboring for breath, and 
with a rattling in the throat similar to that which immediately 
precedes dissolution, he smiled upon her, kissed her affection- 
ately, and said — '' God bless you, my daughter 1" Several of 
the church were soon collected at his bedside ; he smiled on 
them all, but said little, as his power of utterance had nearly 



370 MEMOIR OF 

failed. Once he exclaimed, " Peace ! peace ! Victory ! victo- 
ry !" He looked on his wife and children, and said, almost in 
the words of dying Joseph to his brethren — words which he 
had before spoken of as having a peculiar sweetness, and 
which he now wished to recall to her mind — " I am going, but 
God will surely be with you." His friends watched him, ex- 
pecting every moment to see him expire, till near noon, when 
his distress partially left him ; and he said to the physician, who 
was feeling his pulse, that he found he was not to be released 
yet ; and though he had suffered the pangs of death, and got 
almost within the gates of Paradise — yet, if it was God's will 
that he should come back and suffer still more, he was resign- 
ed. — He passed through a similar scene in the afternoon, and, 
to the surprise of every one, was again relieved. The night 
following, he suffered less than he had the two preceding. 
Friday night had been one of inexpressible suffering. That, 
and the last night of his pilgrimage, were the only nights in 
which he had watchers. The friend who attended him through 
his last night, read to him, at his request, the twelfth chapter 
of the second epistle to the Corinthians ; parts of which must 
have been peculiarly applicable to his case. 

On Monday morning, his dying agonies returned in all their 
extremity. For three hours, every breath was a groan. On 
being asked if his sufferings were greater than on the preced- 
ing Friday night, he answered, " Incomparably greater." He 
said that the greatest temporal blessing, of which he could con- 
ceive, would be one breath of air. — Mrs. Payson, fearing, from 
the expression of suffering in his countenance, that he was in 
mental as well as bodily anguish, questioned him on the sub- 
ject. With extreme difficulty he was enabled to articulate the 
words, " Faith and patience hold out." About mid-day, the 
pain of respiration abated, and a partial stupor succeeded. 
Still, however, he continued intelligent, and evidently able to 
recognise all who were present. His eyes spoke, after his 
tongue became motionless. He looked on Mrs. Payson, and 
then his eye, glancing over the others who surrounded his bed, 
rested on Edward, his eldest son, with an expression which 
said — and which was interpreted by all present to say, as 
plainly as if he had uttered the words of the beloved disciple — 
** Behold thy mother !" There was no visible indication of 
the return of his sufferings. He gradually sunk away, till 
about the going down of the sun, when his happy spirit was set 
at liberty. 

His * ruling passion was strong in death.' His love for 
preaching was as invincible as that of the miser for gold, who 



V 
EDWARD PAYSON. 37I 

dies grasping his treasure. Dr. Payson directed a label to be at- 
tached to his breast, with the words — Remetuber the words which 
I spake unto you while 1 was yet present with you ; that they 
might be read by all who came to look at his corpse, and by 
which he, being dead, still spake. The same words, at the 
request of his people, were engraven on the plate of the coffin, 
and read by thousands on the day of interment. 

His funeral sermon was preached by the Rev. Charles Jen- 
kins, pastor of the Third Church in Portland, from 2 Timo- 
thy, iv. 6, 7, 8 — / am now ready to he offered, &lq>. " The 
gates of this Zion mourn," said Mr. Jenkins, in his introduc- 
tory paragraph ; " for her watchman sleeps in death. He has 

* finished his course.' His voice has ceased for ever to echo 
along these consecrated walls. We beheld him descend into 
the dark valley, shining with new and more heavenly lustre. 
And now, completely and for ever escaped from the damps and 
darkness of earth and sin, our thoughts delight to follow him 
amidst the glories of that pure world, where * they that are 
wise shine as the firmament, and they that turn many to righ- 
teousness, as the stars for ever and ever.' We have stood gaz- 
ing at the fiery element of outward suffering, in which he was 
borne away, until all has vanished ; but we love to linger, that 
we may catch something of that spirit, that made him *^ joyful 
in tribulation," and triumphant in death. The living image 
of his now unconscious, but beloved form, is fondly cherished 
in many a bosom; while purer affections, and livelier faith, be- 
hold him wearing a crown of righteousness. It is grateful to 
recur, in melancholy recollections, to the past, and hang again 
on those lips, which are sealed in perpetual silence. More 
grateful still is it to glance forward, on the strong pinions of 
hope, to a future meeting and an eternal union with him, and 

* the spirits of the just made perfect.' " 

Afler having gone through with the discussion of his sub- 
ject, Mr. Jenkins thus reverted to the occasion : — 

" Such, my hearers, are the nature, the objects^ and the 
grounds of the dying believer's assurance. They are topics 
which sort with the spontaneous reflections of every serious 
mind, on an occasion like the present. They are topics which 
have just been so strikingly exhibited in the last days of our 
dear departed friend, that every thing I have attempted to o^ 
fer has appeared to me scarcely other than the accumulation 
of •' words without knowledge." Had he not interdicted me 
the privilege, I would gladly have let his death-bed speak in 



372 MEMOIR OF 

this illustration. Instead of detaining you with such Iow\iews 
on those lofti/ themes, I would have lifted you up from the 
low level of our ordinary thoughts, by repeating some of those 
' burning words and breathing thoughts' that his departing 
soul expressed. And even now I may not be denied the privilege 
of exalting the grace of God, by repeating a few of his expres- 
sions, indicating the nature, objects, and grounds of his assur- 
ance, as he stood on the borders of two worlds." 
* * * * 

^' Surely, he who could utter such language was readj/ to be 
offered — he had fought a good Jiglit ; he had finished his 
course in triumph, and now wears the victor's crown of righ- 
teousness. His ' witness is in heaven ; his record is on high ;' 
and there his eternal weight of glory is begun. 

" And what shall I say more ? I might speak of his gifted 
intellect — I might dwell on its wonderful powers of combina- 
tion ; on that excursive faculty, which, for ever glancing from 
earth to heaven, and from heaven to earth, could gather the 
universe around him in aid of his illustrations.- — But to speak 
on these points becomes not this solemn occasion. He would 
frown on the attempt. He counted all these " loss for Christ." 
If I may speak of his character, it shall be that character 
which had so conspicuously the Christian stamp. In this re- 
spect, grace made him great. It wrought a deep work in his 
soul. The predominant features of his whole mind, for many 
years, were high spiritual views, and deep spiritual feelings. 
These tinged, or rather were the element of, his thoughts and 
efforts. His natural ardor of temperament doubtless affected, 
not a little, his religious exercises. It gave them violence and 
energy. His seasons of spiritual elevation were heaven 
brought down to earth. His seasons of religious depression 
resembled the storms of autumn, sudden, dark, threatening — 
leaving a serener and purer sky, but betokening that winter is 
approaching. He was pre-eminently a man of prayer. There 
was in his prayers a copiousness, a fervor, a familiarity, a 
reaching forth of the soul into eternity, that was almost pecu- 
liar to himself; and that told every hearer, that heaven was 
his element, and prayer his breath, and life, and joy. As a 
preacher, it is easier to say what he was not, than what he 
was. He was eloquent, and yet no one could describe his el- 
oquence to the apprehension of a stranger. It consisted in an 
assemblage of qualities that could be seen and felt, but not 
described. He did not preach himself. His subject always 
stood between himself and his audience. Ah ! I will not — I 
cannot enlarge. Let the thousand voices of those, who have 



EDWARD PAYSON. 373 

bfeen brought to the knowledge of Christ by his ministrations, 
tell what he was as a preacher. 

*' Shall I speak of his loss 1 To this religious commu- 
nity it is great. Few, at his period of life, have left an influ- 
ence operating so widely and usefully on the moral and relig- 
ious condition of men. That influence has gone very far. It 
is flying, and will long be flying among the winged messen- 
gers of salvation." 



Having followed this distinguished servant of Jesus from 
the commencement to the termination of his useful career, an 
extended analysis of his character would form an appropriate 
conclusion to the book. Such an analysis was contemplated, 
but is precluded by the unexpected size to which the volume 
has already grown. The omission will be the less regretted, 
as its place is supplied by a fuller developement of facts, from 
which that character may be more accurately and minutely 
known. By drawing attention to a few points, however, — 
which will be stated with as much brevity as possible, — some 
erroneous impressions may be obviated, and the benefit of a 
large class of readers consulted. 

His physical conformation was of a very delicate structure, 
extremely sensitive and easily excited, ranking him beyond all 
question with the genus irritahile vatum. His constitutional 
tendencies were strengthened, and his sufferings firom this 
source aggravated, by his lamentable imprudence, in venturing 
on a course of severe abstinence and protracted mental efibrts, 
under which his nature sunk. Here was the great error of his 
life. To censure a man for constitutional infirmity is as unjust 
and inhuman as to censure him for a bodily deformity, which he 
had no agency in producing. The aggravation of natural evils 
by voluntary acts is, however, a just subject of animadver- 
sion.* Nervous irritability, with its consequent depression, was 



* II is not easy to determine how far a man is accountable in a case like this. 
There is a general propensity to pronounce rash and cruel judgment upon men 
thus affected 5 or, what is worse, to treat them wath unfeeling ridicule. — It is 
some apology for Dr. Payson, that the health of sedentary men had not, at the 
time of his error, become the subject of much attention 5 his was in part the sin 
of ignorance. The case is now different. Much has been said, and much writ- 
ten on the subject 5 and there is in the Christian Spectator for April, 1827, an 
essay on the Irifiuence of Nervous Disorders upon Religious Experiencej which 
ouo^ht to be read in connexion with this Memoir. 

In an earlier number of the same work, (April, 1826,) is an article On the 
Mutual Influence of the Mind and Body, — an inquiry which is deserving the con- 
sideration of all who would judge rightly of the phenomena that are sometimes 
witnessA-^ n the subjects of nervous affections. We quote a few sentences : — 

32 



374 MEMOIR OF 

an ingredient in Dr. Payson's nature, and would, without doubt, 
have been equally conspicuous, and vastly more disastrous in 
its effects, had he lived a stranger to experimental religion. 
Though he suffered inconceivably in his own person from this 
cause, yet he seems to have had it so far under his control, that 
it seldom, if ever, diminished his usefulness, or the amount of 
his active services, or was attended with ill effects in relation 
to others. He was not incessantly doling out his complaints 
into the ears of his fellow-creatures : he kept them chiefly to 
himself He was too wise to sue for sympathy from " nerves 
of wire." 

His melancholy never, in a single instance, that is recollect- 
ed, brought him into ' bondage through fear of death.' He 
invariably contemplated an exchange of worlds with compla- 
cency, as a desirable event, ^* a consummation devoutly to be 
wished." 

As rarely, almost, did it disqualify him for, or indispose him 
to any official labor, which was demanded by the state of his 
flock. However reduced in strength or depressed in feelings, 
he was quick to hear, and prompt to obey, all pastoral calls ; 
and often did so when he needed to be in his bed, and under 
the care of the nurse or physician. 

It never rendered him unequal to the most sudden and tr}^- 
ing emergencies of life. He could meet, with the utmost 
readiness, any demands which unexpected and distressing 
events made upon him. In the alarm of a conflagration, when 
confusion of mind and general agitation render worse than 
useless one half of the endeavors which are made to stay the 
calamity, and rescue property and lives from destruction, he 
was cool and collected, and a most efficient helper. In time 

" All these feelings are not in such cases strictly moral, nor are we accounta- 
ble for them, except as we are accountable for inducing that state of ph^'sical 
organization from which they result. — They arc the offspring of a diseased mind, 
and cannot be shaken off" whilst the physical cause remains. Every physical 
state of the nervous system has a correspondent state of mental emotion 5 and to 
remove the latter, the former must be changed. * * # 

^* But although physical causes have so extensive and important an influence 
upon the mind, though they so often weaken and disorganize its powers, yet no 
mental diseases are so little understood as those originating in a physical cause j 
none excite so little sympathy, none are more real, and none give rise to more 
exquisite suffering. The unhappy victim is perhaps ridiculed, or, if not ridi- 
culed, passes long and wretched hours in the miserable world presented 
through the medium of a diseased mind, till death sweeps him and his sorrows 
to the land of forgetfulness ; yet, while the physical cause continues its uilluonce, 
a man might as well attempt to heap Pelion on Ossa, as to remove from his 
burdened mind the pressure of distempered imaginations. Let those testify, 
upon whom Dyspepsy has laid her leaden hand, quenching the fire of feelinff 
and imagination, checking the flow of intellect, and haunting the mind with 
spectra/ apperitions of unreal evil." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 375 

of war and public calamity, his mind was, if ever, kept in 
perfect peace. The most undisturbed composure and resigna- 
tion were apparent in him, when the objects of his dearest 
earthly affections were languishing and undergoing mortal ag- 
onies before his eyes ; the same was true when tortures like 
those of the rack seized and convulsed his own frame. He 
has been known, also, to walk deliberately up, and cut the 
cord by which a suicide was suspended, when others, of firm 
nerves, stood gazing, horror-stricken at the spectacle. 

That it was originally his calamity, and not his crime, is 
further evident from the fact, that it bore upon him with al- 
most insupportable weight at some times when faith and hope 
co-existed with it. In all his private writings, no expressions 
have been found indicative of a more keen sense of suffering 
from this cause, than some which he penned, when his hope 
of heaven existed to a deo^ree amountinoj almost to assurance. 
" This oppressive melancholy cut the very sinews of the soul, 
so that it could not throw off the load." 

This malady may be regarded as having reached its climax 
during his first essays as a preacher. There had been causes 
favoring its rapid progress, whicli did not afterwards exist. 
And, notwithstanding the greater subsequent prostration of his 
health, its general symptoms wore a mitigated aspect, and be- 
came less distressing from year to year. Some short seasons 
are to be excepted from this general remark, particularly por- 
tions of the year or two next preceding that in which he died, 
— when, in addition to his extreme weakness, his mind was 
agitated by questions of great moment to the general interests of 
religion. Though his light was obscured by a temporary cloud, 
yet was his path, in an emphatic sense, like the rising sun, 
shining more and more unto the perfect day. Probably there 
was not a day during the last six months of his life, in which 
the Sun of Righteousness did not shine upon him in full-orbed 
splendor. 

As there are ^ laws pertaining to the union of mind and body 
which affect them in common,' it is a matter of course, that 
the disorders of his physical frame should modify, in some de- 
gree, the exercises of his mind and his religious affections. 
Hence we have seen him writing bitter things against himself, 
for causes which, with a different temperament, would have 
given him little uneasiness. We have seen him, at times, 
'^ poring so closely over his own frame of mind, as scarcely to 
be able to lift up his eyes to the cross ; or, if his eyes glanced 
that way, they were so suffused with penitential tears, that 
they saw but dimly the merit of the Saviour's blood, the com- 



376 MEMOIR OF 

passions of his heart, and the freeness of his salvation." At 
one stage of his religious progress, he seems to have been so 
anxious for happy frames, that, without being conscious of it at 
the time^ the obtaining of such frames wa.s, perhaps, the im- 
mediate end of his offices of devotion ; and according to their 
state he graduated his hope. As those were joyful or gloomy, 
this was elevated or depressed. — This error, and the sore chas- 
tisement which he suffered in consequence, he in his last days 
held forth as a warning to a near relative, whom he supposed 
to be in danger of a similar mistake. 

His religion also, in his own view, was, for a time at least, 
tinged with romance. This resulted from his ardor of temper- 
ament. " By religious romance," he once said in conversa- 
tion, " I mean the indulgence of unwarranted expectations ; 
expectations that our sins are to be subdued at once in some 
uncommon way, or by some uncommon means ; just as a man 
would expect to become rich by drawing a prize in a lottery, 
or in some other hap-hazard way. We cannot, indeed, ex- 
pect too much, if we regulate our expectations by the word of 
God ; but we may expect more than he warrants us to expect, 
and when our unwarranted expectations are disappointed, we 
are apt to sink into despondency. Christians whose natural 
feelings are strong are most liable to run into this error. But I 
know of no way to make progress in holiness, but the steady, 
humble, persevering practice of meditation, prayer, watchful- 
ness, self-denial, and good works. If we use these means, our 
progress is certain." 

None of these defects, however, entered so deeply into the 
character of his religion as to conceal the marks of its genu- 
ineness, or scarcely to obscure them. The features which 
proclaimed its heavenly origin and its heavenly tendency, were 
strongly marked and abiding. Almost from its commence- 
ment, we have seen him habitually discriminating between 
* the real and the imaginary, the scriptural and the erroneous, 
the precious and the vile,' in his own religious emotions. He 
has been the first to apply to them the only infallible test, and 
the first to detect and abjure whatever did not sustain the trial 
of Scripture. We see him, in reference to his own exercises, 
making the distinction between distress of mind and hi^okcn- 
ness of heart, and between other affections which a hypocrite 
or a deluded man would be certain to confound. 

Ardent and impassioned as was his religion, it is neverthe- 
less a noticeable fact, that seldom, if ever, did an expression of 
the workings of the heart towards the Object of his supreme 
affnctionp escape him, even in private, which was suited to 



1^- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 377 

awaken degrading and earthly associations. The impression 
must be deeply imprinted on every reader, that the intercourse 
which he maintained with God was a holy intercourse. While 
he was filled with the highest admiration of the condescension 
of God, and talked with him almost with the same familiarity 
with which a man addresses his friend ; it was still with the 
profoundest reverence, and with a deep-seated consciousness 
of the distance between the Creator and the creature — a char- 
acteristic which belongs to no enthusiast. 

His devotional contemplations, even when they have most 
the appearance of extravagance, differ widely from the reve- 
ries of the enthusiast. He is no where seen regarding him- 
self as the only creature in the universe, or as the peculiar fa- 
vorite of heaven ; nor exulting in the thought of being saved, 
and made eternally happy, independently of the medium 
through which salvation is effected. He saw and felt, that there 
were interests to be consulted of more importance to the uni- 
verse than his individual happiness, and wished to be saved 
in no way which would put these interests in jeopardy. If 
there was a single attribute of Jehovah, which he contempla- 
ted with more exquisite pleasure than any other, or one which 
he desired above all to imitate, it was holiness. And seldom 
did his thoughts revert to this perfection without an earnest 
prayer that his fellow creatures might become holy. — If there 
were ever a time when his religion might be mistaken for a 
** moping sentimentalism,'' or a * monkish religion,' it was 
while he pursued in solitude his studies preparatory to the min- 
istry ; but, even then, it was not * that sickly sensitiveness, 
which serves only to divert attention from what is important in 
practical virtue.' His immediate relations to his fellow men 
were then comparatively few, and made only small and infre- 
quent demands upon his time and attention, and sufficiently 
account for the appearance which his religion then assumed. 
But, even at that time, he does not seem to have been deficient 
in relative duty ; and when duties of this class were greatly 
multiplied, he was a pattern of fidelity, punctuality, and per- 
severance. His practice of all the moral virtues was so exact 
and thorough, that the bitterest enemy was unable to detect 
any delinquency. And with a heart full char Jed with benev- 
olence, he was ever * doing good to all men as he had opportu- 
nity, especially to them of the household of faith.' In short, 
if the existence of true religion is to be known by its pra>ical 
fruits, we know not the man who could sustain a closer scruti- 
ny than Dr. Payson. He was remarkably free from ono class 
of indulgences, to which his constitution and often infi/mities 
32* 



378 MEMOIR OF 

must have predisposed bim, and to which he must have been 
strongly tempted by the fashions of society, when the use of 
stimulating drinks was common in all circles, and the glass 
was tendered almost with the first salutation. But he kept 
himself pure. This and similar facts show very strikingly the 
strength of religious principle in his soul, and how much he 
owed to divine grace. 

The faults of Dr. Payson were of a kind suited to make an 
impression altogether disproportionate to their moral obliquity. 
To a stranger, who had seen him but once, and under the in- 
fluence of those agitated and desponding feelings with which 
he left the conference room,'* — and there were two or three 
such occurrences in the course of his life, — he would, probably, 
have appeared rash, petulant, and unreasonably severe ; and 
this sudden tide of disagreeable feelings would have been taken 
for his general character. A stranger would not know, what 
his church knew, that, by the time he had reached his home, 
he had assumed to himself the blame which he had charged 
upon them; and that, the first opportunity, he would meet 
them with subdued feelings and the humility of a child. A 
transient observer would not have seen the influence of this 
step on the church ; and that nothing could have been so eflfec- 
tual to produce relentings in them, and bring them back to 
their duty, as the reflection that they had so deeply grieved 
the heart of him who was ready to spend and be spent for their 
salvation. Mutual confession and forgiveness has a wonder- 
ful eflect in softening the heart, and preparing it for the recep- 
tion of divine influences ; and never had mere man a more 
exorable and forgiving spirit than Dr. Payson. 

Of the truth of this last remark, there is the most abundant 
and satisfactory proof, of which the nature of the case will ad- 
mit. He did not pass through life without encountering in- 
juries, which were aimed at his dearest and tenderest inter- 
ests ; which were wounding to the feelings, and would have 
exasperated a man less under the influence of a Christian tem- 
per than he. Yet not the remotest trace can be found of a 
vindictive spirit. In this he evidently endeavored to copy his 
Divine Model throughout ; *' who, when he was reviled, reviled 
not again ; when he suffered, threatened not ; but committed 
himself to him who judgeth righteously." The writer has 
been curious to examine his closet-meditations upon the 
wrongs which were inflicted upon him, and to learn what 
were his real feelings towards those from whom he suffered 

* Page 339. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 379 

maltreatment and abuse. For this purpose, he has directed 
his attention to the dates of such as occurred within his own 
knowledge, and with the circumstances of which he was fa- 
miHarly acquainted. The result is most honorable to the de- 
parted minister. Of some no trace can be found ; they are 
buried in forgetfulness. To some there is merely an allusion. 
Wkere a notice of them was unavoidable, the fact is mention- 
ed or insinuated ; but rarely, indeed, is it accompanied with 
reproach or censure. The comment usually is, in substance, 
*^ Retired, and prayed for him who had done the injury. '' Such 
was the only revenge which he sought of the mischievous wag, 
who awaked him at midnight, with a forged request, that he 
would visit a woman alleged to be dying. Even those inju- 
ries which were aimed at his reputation, and were designed, 
by affecting his character, to weaken his influence, and ob- 
struct his usefulness, and, therefore, incomparably more griev- 
ous than any mere personal wrongs, were treated with no 
greater severity. Careful as he was to record his own sins 
and failings, and severely as he condemned them, the instan- 
ces are few indeed, in which he passes any direct censure 
upon a fellow creature. Always bold and faithful to rebuke 
sin, when he met its perpetrator face to face, he was equally 
tender towards the guilty, in circumstances where severity 
could do nothincr towards reclaiminoj him. The sins of others 
he had no wish to perpetuate. He seeks forgiveness for them 
in private prayer, and spreads over them a mantle broad 
enough to " cover a multitude of sins.'' How deeply learned 
must he have been in the school of Christ, thus to ^ love his 
enemies, to bless them that cursed him, to do good to them 
that hated him, and to pray for them who despitefully used 
and persecuted him !' 

An abhorrence of sin cannot have failed to strike every 
reader as a prevailing affection of Dr. Payson's heart. It is 
apparent at all times and in all circumstances. We see it in 
the records of the closet, and in his pulpit addresses. It was 
seen by those who met him in social intercourse, whether for 
ordinary purposes, or for religious inquiry and conference; 
and especially by those who heard his confessions and prayers 
to Him who hath said, *^ O, do not that abominable thing 
which I hate !" It was in its relation to God and his law, 
that he viewed it, and learned its nature ; and not merely 
from its effects on the well-being and happiness of man. The 
guilt and pollution of sin were, beyond expression, hateful to 
him. He dreaded its contamination more than death — more 
than he did the gnawings of the never-dying worm. Hell 



380 MEMOIR OF 

itself had fewer terrors for him than sin. The latter was his 
torment and his grief; but how rarely was he troubled with 
apprehensions of the former ! That, he freely acknowledg- 
ed, he deserved ; but it was this, which filled him with dis- 
tress. This was the burden of his private lamentations ; the 
foe to God and man which he deprecated, denounced, and ab- 
jured in public, and against which his solemn warnings were 
directed. He abhorred it for its guilt, he loathed it for its 
degradation, more than he dreaded the misery which it entails. 
It was the ' wormwood and the gall, which his soul had contin- 
ually in remembrance, and was humbled in him.' It was for 
this that he abhorred himself, repenting in dust and ashes. 
On account of sin, he daily sorrowed after a godly sort : — and 
" what carefulness it wrought in him'' to watch against its ap- 
proach ; to foresee and resist temptations ; to seek strength 
from above, that he might be preserved from falling ; to guard 
every thought, and word, and act, lest b^e should prejudice 
his Maker's cause ! or, to express the emotion in his own lan- 
guage, he 'seemed to himself to be walking on a hair, and 
hardly dared to go to his meals, lest he should say or do some- 
thing that might disgrace the ministry or hurt the cause of re- 
ligion :' — '^ what clearing of himself" from all consciousness 
and all imputations of allowed sin, so as to draw forth the ac- 
knowledgment from the most abandoned, that he was a man 
of God, and make it safe for him to lodge the appeal in the 
consciences of his flock, '' Ye are witnesses, and God also, 
how holily, and justly, and unblamably I have behaved myself 
among you !" — '' what indignation" against himself for hav- 
ing ever been rebellious, or for having, after he became a will- 
ing subject, failed to glorify God in all things, or forfeited, 
even for a moment, the approbation of his Master, and the 
pleasures of a good conscience ! — '* what fear" of repeating 
the transgression, preferring rather to die than again to offend 
his God and wound his Redeemer ! — '' what vehement de- 
sire" to be wholly delivered from the power and contamination 
of sin, his soul going forth in ardent longings after God, or, in 
his own language, *' filled with insatiable desires after holi- 
ness !" — " what zeal" in his conflict with this perpetually an- 
noying enemy ! How * unfatigued his fervent spirit labored !' 
With what unsleeping vigilance and skill did he employ the 
" weapons of the holy war," to dislodge the foe from his own 
heart and the hearts of others, that the Saviour might be en- 
throned in them, and sway his sceptre over them ! 

Another precious mark o*f the genuineness of his religion was 
his bo ving with entire reverence to the supreme authority of 



EDWARD P AYSOJV. 381 

divine revelation. This was strikingly apparent from the time 
when he first knew its value by experience, by his making it 
his almost exclusive study, as a preparation for preaching, and 
by his daily devotion to it till his death. He had no favorite 
dogma, no figment of the imagination, no theoretical specula- 
tion or practical views, which he was not ready to discard at 
once, if they were seen to clash in the least with the Scriptures 
of truth. These were his chart, his pole-star, his * light shi- 
ning in a dark place, to which he did well to take heed/ He 
opened them with the docility of a child, and * drank in the 
sincere milk of the word' with exquisite relish. To him they 
were ^ more precious than gold, sweeter than honey, and more 
highly prized than his necessary food.' And in this love and 
reverence for the Scriptures may be seen the reason, why, con- 
stituted as he was, he was never led astray by the pride of opin- 
ion, never drawn into ensnaring errors by his salient imagi- 
nation. Every thought, sentiment, fancy, and opinion was daily 
corrected by the word of God. It was this steadfast adherence 
to his Rule, that kept him in " the good and right way." 

The last mark of the genuineness of his religion which will be 
noticed, is his perseverance. Had his fervor of affection aba- 
ted, and left him in a state of apathy ; had he let down his 
watch, suspended his efforts, and ceased striving to reach ' the 
fulness of the stature of a perfect man in Christ Jesus,' this 
temporary ardor might justly have brought his piety under sus- 
picion, as being nothing better than a species of religious 
wild-fire. But, as it has been well remarked by a late writer, 
*' Where there is no error of imagination — no misjudging of 
realities — no calculations which reason condemns — there is no 
enthusiasm, even though the soul may be on fire with the ve- 
locity of its movement in pursuit of its chosen object." With 
the velocity with which he had commenced his race, he con- 
tinued to move, accelerated, too, by the momentum which he 
had acquired in his progress. His religion was * the water 
which Christ gives, and was in him a well of water, springing 
up into everlasting life.' These remarks apply to his perfor- 
mance of particular duties, as well as to his general progress. 
One of his own precious " gems of thought" will here be introdu- 
ced to illustrate the principle upon which he acted, and the 
principle which kept action alive, not in one mode only, but in 
every method by which man can express affection for the 
Saviour : — 

'* It has been frequently wished by Christians, that there were 
some rule laid down in the Bible, fixing the proportion of their 



382 MEMOIR OF 

property which they ought to contribute to religious uses. This 
is as if a child should go to his father, and say, " Father, how 
many times in the day must I come to you with some testimo- 
nial of my love ? how often will it be necessary to show my affec- 
tion for you ?" — ^The father would, of course, reply, * Just as 
often as your feelings prompt you, my child, and no oftener.' 
Just so Christ says to his people : * Look at me, and see what 
I have done and suffered for you, and then give me just what 
you think I deserve. I do not wish any thing forced/ " 

Here, unquestionably, is the measure and the obligation of 
Christian duty, which he endeavored to keep continually in 
his own eye. He loved much, for much had been forgiven 
him. He daily looked to Christ, and saw continually increas- 
ing reasons for increased love, zeal, and duty. His ' religious 
emotions were strengthened by constant exercise,' and the ut- 
terance of them in the presence of his heavenly Father. The 
constant practice of duty gave him increased ability for duty. 
He continued his approaches to the throne of grace through 
all the changes of his afflicted, joyful life. If any man on 
earth could meet the challenge — '^ Will he always call upon 
God V^ — that man was Edward Payson. And the " eternal 
sunshine" which bec^an to settle on his soul before it left the 
body, is evidence that he was heard and accepted. 

The grand means, by which he reached his distinguished 
eminence in piety, and * persevered therein to the end,' may be 
learned from what has already been disclosed. Much more, 
however, might be revealed respecting the methods which he 
employed to '' bring every thought into captivity to the obedi- 
ence of Christ." Circumstances in themselves trifling oflen 
have important influence on the character ; and nothing is un- 
worthy of regard, which helps to prevent our hearts from wan- 
dering from God, or to recall them when they stray, or to keep 
alive the sense of our religious obligations. When there are so 
many allurements and temptation-s to stray, as this world pre- 
sents, addressed to hearts so vulnerable and so easily deceived, 
it is well to have a monitor in every object we behold ; to make 
inanimate things our counsellors ; to 

'^ Find tongues in treeS; books in the running- brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and g-ood in every tiling 5" 

till all parts of creation become preachers of righteousness. 
He who can thus habitually associate religious considerations 
with the " things that are seen," enjoys a rational satisfaction 
at the same time that he cultivates a spirit of devotion. But 



EDWARD PAYSON. 383 

those who find it difficult thus to read the book of nature, may 
derive a useful hint from another practice of Dr. Payson. On 
the waste leaf of several numbers of his journal are maxims, 
rules, admonitions, or choice sentiments, which appear to be 
intended to remind him, every time he should take up the 
volume to make an entry, of some obligation, or to serve as 
a stimulus to duty in some one of his important relations. The 
value of such mementos is incalculable, and within the reach 
of all. It may be useful to transcribe a specimen : — 

" Rutherford remarks, — * I have set apart some time, morn- 
ing, noon, and night, for prayer, reading the Scriptures, med- 
itation, 6lc. : 

* I have endeavored to mingle thoughts on serious subjects 
with other employments : 

* To watch against wandering thoughts in secret prayer ; 

* Never to murmur that I did not enjoy sensible comfort in 
prayer : 

' To spend the whole of the Lord's day in public and private 
devotion : 

* To avoid all idle words, and thoughts, and sudden passion : 

* Especially to avoid sinning against light in the most trivial 
affair, as nothing has a more powerful tendency to harden the 
heart.' " 

^' An eminent saint, now in heaven, remarked as follows : — 

* Now, at the close of life, my conscience reproaches me — 
For not doing every thing, however small, with a view to the 
divine glory : 

* That I have not been more careful to spend time profit- 
ably in company * 

' That I have not been affected with the distresses of others : 
' That I have not been duly humbled for the sins of my 
youth.'" 

" If the end of one mercy were not the beginning of another, 
we were undone." 

The following, from Flavel and Baxter, were for his con- 
sideration as a minister : — 

" Jesus was a tender-hearted minister, a faithful minister, a 
laborious, painful minister, a minister who delighted in the 
success of his ministry, a minister who lived up to his doctrine, 
a nruister who maintained communion with God." 



384 MiEMOIR OF 

** I have long observed, that though ministers use words and 
arguments ever so persuasive and convincing, yet, if they think 
all their care is over as soon as the sermon is delivered, pre- 
tending they have done their duty, and that the event is God's, 
they seldom prosper in their labors ; but those whose heart 
is set on the success of their work, who earnestly inquire how 
it speeds, and who follow up their public labors with prayer 
and private exhortation, are usually blessed and owned in their 
work." 

He had still another class of maxims, which show his con- 
scientious regard to "whatsoever things are lovely and of good 
report." 

The preceding pages contain a tolerably complete — perhaps 
too complete — exhibition of Dr. Payson's religious character. 
It has been found a very serious and difficult question, how far 
it is justifiable to submit to the inspection of good and bad, 
indiscriminately, the records of one's private exercises, which 
were not intended to be seen out of the closet. As religion 
is so much the business of the closet, it is obvious, that no 
man's religious character can be fully developed, without 
exhibiting the transactions of that sacred retreat. Disclosures 
of this class have been highly prized by the Christian community 
generally ; and God himself seems to have set the seal of his 
approbation upon them, by rendering them the frequent occasion 
of exciting and cherishing religious affections. These con- 
siderations have done much to quiet the misgivings, which 
were occasionally felt on exposing, as it were, to the public 
gaze, the recesses of a heart so deeply and variously affected I 

as was that of the subject of this Memoir. It is hoped, how- 
ever, that there is no wanton exposure. The author's first 
care has been to give an honest, faithful history ; and he is 
not aware that any deductions or abatements from the com- 
mendatory part need to be made on the ground of personal 
friendship or partiality, or that any lack of censure needs to be 
supplied for similar reasons. Rather has he feared that his 
anxiety to copy scriptural models, which describe the faults 
of good men with the same unshrinking fidelity that they em- 
balm their virtues, may have led him to throw too much of 
shade into the picture, to dwell at disproportionate length on 
those points which cannot be contemplated without sadness. 
The several parts of the work, however, will be found, not- 
withstanding their apparently miscellaneous character, to have 
an intimate relation to the whole, and to, reciprocally, modify 
and explain each other. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 385 

The qaery will perhaps arise, Why, if Dr. Payson intended 
his diary should never be read, did he not destroy it previous 
to his death? His procedure in regard to his manuscript 
sermons suggests a possible reason. It was for a long time 
his settled purpose never to allow one to be published ; and, 
after it became certain that he could no longer use them in 
public, he actually set about their immolation. They were 
reprieved from the flames, for a season, at the almost forcible 
interposition of his family. As the time of his departure ap- 
proached, the glories of heaven and the value of the soul 
appeared so transcendent, that he became wholly indifferent 
to literary reputation and worldly fame, and gave his consent 
to the publication of a portion of his discourses, if it should be 
thought expedient, or would be beneficial to men. He was 
now perfectly willing to become *^ a fool for Christ's sake.'' A 
similar change might have taken place in regard to the diary ; 
though it is more probable that he expected it would never 
be read. The key he had imparted to no one ; and, though 
he was aware that it had been partially discovered — for occa- 
sionally, but unconsciously to himself, a word in his alphabet 
found i^ way into his friendly epistles, and its import was 
determined by the connexion, and then the sounds or letters, 
which the characters represented, were easily ascertained ; — yet 
he probably thought no one would have the curiosity or pa- 
tience to try it throughout, especially as his manner of applying 
it is not the same in every volume. 

It may be regarded as an inexcusable omission not to 
glance at his intellectual qualities,* in connexion with the great 

* It was intimated to the compiler by a friend, during the progress of the sec=- 
ond edition of this work through the press^ that but partial justice had been 
awarded to Dr. Payson, in what was said of his intellectual character and clas- 
sical attainments, while a member of college. The intimation was accompa- 
nied with a reference to an authentic source of information — a source to which 
he now wonders that it had not sooner occurred to him to apply. The result of 
his late application was the following very satisfactory letter, which, much to 
his regret, cannot now be incorporated with, and made to modify, that part of 
the narrative to which it belong^ : — 

« WeihetsfieUL, June 18, ]830. 
" Mt dear Brother, 

*' In compliance with your request, 1 suggest a few hints relating to a part 
of the college-life of the dear and much lamented Payson. For the two last 
years, I was one of his tutors— indeed, his particular tutor. That particularity, 
however, was little more than nominal, predicated upon a weekly recitation in 
history* Not more than one third of his literary performances were in my pres- 
ence. His principal recitations to me were in geometry and natural philosophy. 

'' All the favorable testimonies which your excellent Memoir contains, relat- 
ing to his college-Hfe, are unquestionably correct ; and I cannot but think, that 
he was " regarded as" " more than a decent scholar by his associates and 
teachers generally." His class-mate, the Rev. Mr. K. of Ipswich, agrees with 
me in ranking him among the best quarter of his class. Mr. K. is confident 

33 



386 MEMOIR OF 

purposes for which he employed them. This may be done by 
introducing an extract, addressed to his church and congrega- 
tion at the installation of his successor, the Rev. Dr. Tyler, 
by President Allen : — 

" His vigorous intellect could grasp high subjects. Nor 
vi^as his knowledge limited to one department. It had a 
wide range, as his curiosity was insatiable, and his acquisi- 
tions made with the utmost rapidity. But from all the fields 
of science he brought illustrations of the great principles of 
religion, which it was his business and delight to communi- 
cate to his fellow men. 

"Among the valuable qualities, with which it pleased the 
great Author of his mind to endow him, fancy or imagination 
was very conspicuous, and very important. This essence of 
the poet belonged to him in a high degree. If there are, among 
preachers of the gospel, men of strong intellect and close 
argument, who reason with great force, without deriving any 
aid from the imaginative faculty ; yet such was not the charac- 
teristic of his preaching. Nor am I persuaded that the high- 
est powers of reasoning on moral subjects can be separated 
from the resources of a well-stored fancy. In mathematical 
reasoning, which is founded wholly on definitions, or a few 
expressed conceptions or notions, the process is indeed to be 
carried on, as the smith makes a chain, by adding link to link. 
The argument is uniform, and of one material. There is no 
place for illustrations ; no opportunity for the colorings of 
fancy. 

" But if we reason on moral subjects, the case is very differ- 
ent. We do not set out with clear, unquestioned definitions, 
and adequate notions. Our very conceptions of spiritual truths 
must be aided by means of the objects presented to our sen- 
ses. The imagination must assist the intellect. Without 
this imaginative faculty, this power of comparing different ob- 
jects, of perceiving the analogies of the universe, I do not 

that a forensic disputation, a very honorable part, was assigned to him for per- 
formance at commencement ; which failed in consequence of the indisposition 
of his much respected associate, now the Rev. Dr. W. 

"Is it not injurious to the cause of Hterary improvement, that the pupilage of 
such a man as Dr. Payson should be represented as manifesting no more than 
ordinary scholarship ? As far as a pretty extensive observation has enabled me 
tojudge^ the college standing of students is, in general, a good index of their re- 
spectability the rest of their days. 

" With regard to Dr. P.'s religious experience, the probability seems very 
strong, that he first tasted the immortal fountain at Portland. I cannot find the 
Jeast evidence of any fruits of evangelical holiness before the year 1804 or 1805. 
" Respectfully yours, J. E.'' 



EDWARD PAYSON. 387 

know how we can form the best notions of the divine attri- 
butes ; and sure I am, that without this facuUy we are ill qual- 
ified to be teachers of others, and must be very deficient in the 
power of rousing the sluggish attention, of aiding the efforts of 
the weak intellect, of irradiating the cloudy conception, and of 
i^rengthening the vision for the view of the distant and the ob- 
scure. Our Master and Teacher, the great Author and Finisher 
of our faith, very frequently illustrated spiritual things by means 
of material objects, and has shown us how to make Nature, as 
she should be, the handmaid of Religion. Dr. Payson, from 
the ample storehouse of his fancy, often brought forth images 
and symbols, enabling him to exhibit clearly his conceptions, 
which might otherwise have been unintelligible, and to trans- 
port his hearers, as it were, in spite of themselves, to the deep 
and never-opened prison, where is weeping, wailing, and gnash- 
ing of teeth, — and also to the bright, and pure, and all-glori- 
ous presence of God, and to the immediate glance of that all- 
piercing eye, from which iniquity shrinketh away in terror and 
horror. 

'' Other elements are yet to be considered in estimating his 
power as a preacher. It was not merely that his mind was 
active and strong, and that he could scatter the radiance of an 
unequalled fancy over the abstrusest conceptions, and mingle 
delight with instruction. In addition to this, his power as a 
preacher was the power of his own deep-seated conviction of 
the infinite importance of the truths which he communicated, 
and of the realities of the invisible world, which he described; 
— the power of ardent, unquestioned piety. 

" His eloquence was very different from studied oratory. 
There was no elegance of gesture, and no display. Yet the 
deep tones of his voice, uttering tremendous warnings, were 
calculated to startle the secure, while the blessed promises of the 
gospel came from his lips in the mild and gladdening accents 
of one whose soul rejoiced in God his Saviour." 

Scarcely an individual has ever been heard to speak of Dr. 
Payson's intellectual qualities, who did not fix upon imagina- 
tion as the predominant characteristic in the structure of his 
mind ; and it is often referred to as a simple faculty, involving 
the exercise of no other powers. A distinct and lively percep- 
tion of truths and objects, a power of comparison, abstraction, 
and combination, are essential constituents of this faculty, as 
it exists in the poet ; and such was it in him. If he had de- 
voted himself to the Muses, he might have taken a high rank 
among the " sons of song." As it was, the inspiration of poe- 



383 MEMOIR OF 

try pervades his moral and religious discussions, and in a inciri- 
ner altogether as agreeable, and far more useful, than if it were 
presented in measured lines. His imagination was under the 
control of judgment, and entirely subservient to the objects he 
had in view. It was never employed to excite wonder, but always 
to convey instruction. Its boldest flights disclose a very exact 
and delicate perception of the relations of different subjects ; 
and his selection of the circumstances for comparison, a most 
discriminating judgment. Of all the ten thousand illustrations 
of moral and religious truths, with which this faculty supplied 
him, scarcely one failed of being a type, — I had almost said, a 
perfect type or representation of the idea or impression which 
he wished to convey.* It brought full satisfaction to the mind 
of the hearer. He felt that he knew what was thus taught 
him. 

Some have supposed, that he employed analogies and the 
creations of fancy as the means of investigating truth ; that is — 
if I understand their meaning — that, supposing ' truth to lie in 
a well,' his imagination fitted up a sort of machinery to draw 
it out. But this is a mistake : he had, like others, to dive or 
dig for it. He had early imbibed the maxim, ' There is no 
royal road to knowledge ;' and felt its application to theology, as 
vv^ell as to ' geometry.' His acquisitions were made by close 
and prayerful investigation. Toq much has been ascribed 
to his genius, and too little to his industry. His native talents 
were indeed of a high order, but they were strengthened by cul- 
tivation and exercise. His ardor in the pursuit of knowledge 
never abated ; his acquisitions were constantly accumulating. 
It was by continually extending his acquaintance with God's 
world, and the creatures who inhabit it, that he procured the 

materials with which imacrination micrht work. The conclu- 

... 
sions to which he was conducted by his own investigations, the 

conceptions which existed in his own mind, he did often com- 
municate to others by analogies, similitudes, and imagined 
cases ; and this, it is conceived, is their legitimate use. 

He had a high relish for literary pursuits, and greatly enjoy- 
ed the society of literary men. And it will be regarded, by 
those who are able to appreciate it, as one of the most remark- 



* His dreami?}^ imaginations were, sometimes at least, as regular and instruc- 
tive as those which were fonned in obedience to the will •. — 

•' Once I dreamed of being transported to heaven, and, being surprised to find 
myself so calm and tranquil in the midst of my happiness, inquired the cause. 
The reply was^When you were on earth, you resembled a bottle but jpartly 
filled with water, which was agitated by the least motion ; now you are like the 
same bottle fillea to the brim, which canuot be disturbed.'' 



EDWARD PAYSON. 389 

able instances of his self-denial, that he could abandon a pleas- 
ure of which he was so highly susceptible, in order the more 
effectually to promote the salvation of his species. It may well 
be spoken of as an abandonment ; — for when he gave himself 
up to the ministry, he ceased to cultivate classical literature 
for the sake of fame, or for his own individual gratification 
merely. He could not indulge himself, and consume his time, 
in refined intellectual luxuries, when souls were perishing 
around him. There were subjects of real and acknowledged 
utility — subjects of deep and everlasting interest — ^pursuits im- 
mediately connected with the immortal destinies of men, suffi- 
cient to employ his time, and task his best powers. To learning 
of doubtful utility, and rare application, whether recondite or 
elegant, he paid little attention. He estimated the probable 
permanent advantages to be expected from different pursuits, 
by the balances of the sanctuary, and resolutely forsook those, 
however consonant to his inclinations, " where the gains will 
not pay for the candle, and where the philosopher and the 
scholar threaten to swallow up the divine." 

Yet, in the legitimate sense of the term, he was a philoso- 
pher. In the philosophy of that department, in which he shone 
pre-eminently, he had the start of the age. He anticipated the 
substantial improvements in the manner of conducting theolog- 
ical researches, which our theological seminaries have done so 
much to introduce and extend. His discernment, judgment 
and good sense are strikingly apparent in the course which he 
pursued to prepare himself for the pulpit. Theology he regard- 
ed as a divine science ; and he sought it through the medium 
of that divine revelation, which has been communicated to the 
world, and not in human speculations. He studied to ascer- 
tain those boundaries, which separate what may be known by 
man, from that which must for ever elude his research, — unless 
the light of eternity shall reveal it, — and he never overstepped 
them. He stopped at ultimate facts, and never * intruded into 
those things which are not convenient,' and of which the sage 
knows as little as the child. 

Those whom he was endeavoring to guide to heaven, he 
also strove to keep within the same limits ; teaching them that 
" secret things belong to the Lord, but the things that are 
revealed, to them and to their children." And among the 
*' things that are revealed,'' he distinguished between those 
which are capable of receiving elucidation from human discus- 
sion, and those that mock all human explanation, and with re- 
spect to which the very attempt would be * darkening counsel 
by words without knowledge.' There was no doctrine found 
33* 



390 MEMOIR OF 

in the Bible, which he hesitated to assert and defend ; but he 
guarded against resting in it as a mere speculation, — against 
* holding the truth in unrighteousness.' His great aim was to 
make every scriptural theme bear with force upon the con- 
science, — to have every doctrine excite its correspondent emo- 
tion, and every precept its obligation. If his success is not an 
adequate recommendation of his practice, the experience of the 
church, in past ages, holds out an affecting warning of the evils 
of a contrary course. '' Christianity,^' says a recent writer, 
*' has, in some short periods of its history, been entirely dis- 
sociated from philosophical modes of thought and expression ; 
and assuredly it has prospered in such periods. At other times, 
it has scarcely been seen at all, except in the garb of metaphys- 
ical discussion, and then it has lost all its vigor and glory." 

It has been supposed by some, that there must have been 
a deplorable leanness in his discourses, as it respects the 
essential and peculiar doctrines of the gospel. This suspicion 
may never have prevailed extensively, and it is not certainly 
known on what it is founded. It may have arisen from the 
fact, that such multitudes flocked to hear him, in connexion 
with another fact, viz., the sinful opposition of the human 
heart to the humbling doctrines of the cross. In regard to 
some, it may have arisen from the fact, that he reasoned 
without the parade of reasoning ; that he argued without 
reducing his arguments to the dry bones of a syllogism ; that 
he was not accustomed to assume a bold and startling position 
and then declare, in due form, how he was going to prove it. 
It may have arisen from the fact, that he always preached so 
as to be understood, and left no room for the inference, that 
he must be a deep man, because his meaning could not be 
apprehended. But whether the suspicion be owing to any or 
none of these causes, it is doubted whether it has any better 
foundation to rest upon. He did not ' walk in craftiness, nor 
handle the word of God deceitfully.' He could have conceal- 
ed nothing from design, which it was obligatory on him to 
declare ; for this would be contrary to his whole character. 
Friends and foes alike gave him credit for honesty and plain 
dealing. It could not be for want of courage ; for he feared 
not the face of flesh ; and some of the practical discourses 
which he delivered, it re'quired tenfold more of moral heroism 
to pronounce, than it would the most offensive doctrines. 
Sinners might sit and hear the doctrines of election and 
reprobation defended, and not feel half the opposition of heart, 
which would be drawn forth by Dr. Payson's practical ser- 
monr', par icularly such a sermon as that in which fraud is 



EDWARD PAYSON. 391 

exposed and condemned ; and other evil practices did not 
receive a whit more indulgence from him. 

Others, again, who were at a loss to account, on satisfacto- 
ry principles, for the attraction which drew and bound so many 
to him, have ascribed his influence to different causes ; as, 
an artful and impassioned oratory, a talent for amusing an 
audience, and even to rant ! No flattering compliment, to be 
sure, to his hearers ; but it should be stated, by way of apology 
for these surmises, that their authors lived at a distance, and 
did not know him. A little knowledge of human nature might 
have been sufficient to correct such an error. No man, by 
such means, could have sustained a growing reputation, in 
the same place, for a period of twenty years, receiving contin- 
ual accessions to his flock, which included a fair proportion of 
professional characters, and men of cultivated minds. There 
was, it is true, always something in his discourses to delight 
the mind, even when his language was the vehicle of unwel- 
come truths ; but he never uttered any thing from the pulpit 
with the view to amuse. Never did he 

'^ Court a grin^ when he should woo a soul.'' 

There was nothing of stage eflect either in Dr. Payson's 
personal appearance or in his eloquence — no imposing atti- 
tudes or gestures — no extremes of intonation — no affectation 
of tears. It was simple nature, sanctified by grace, uttering 
the deep convictions of the heart, and pleading with fellow 
sinners to become reconciled to God. It was the eloquence 
of truth spoken in love. The words seemed to come from his 
mouth encompassed by that glowing atmosphere in which 
they left the heart, and to brand their very impression in every 
heart on which they fell. 

On account of the rapid increase of his church, some have 
imagined that he must have admitted persons of dubious piety. 
A venerable minister in another state once sent him a mes- 
sage — and by a member of his church too — " not to make 
Christians too fast.'' To say nothing of the brotherly-kind- 
ness of such an insinuation, conveyed by such a messenger, 
it may be doubted whether that good man's successor did not 
find as much *' wood, hay, and stubble," in the supervStructure 
of his own erecting — as much at least in proportion to its 
dimensions — as did Dr. Payson's. And yet he was a man 
of known and acknowledged fidelity. What church does 
not receive and retain hypocrites ? If such characters found 
their way into Dr. Payson's church, his skirts are clear of their 



392 MEMOIR OF 

blood he aimed to do his duty faithfully, and no minister 
was ever more attentive to church discipline. Facts, which 
have appeared so wonderful, and have been accounted for 
in so many conjectural ways, will not, perhaps, appear surpris- 
ing, when his private devotions and public labors become 
more extensively known. Perhaps it will be felt, that the 
means which he employed, and which God blessed, bore as 
full a proportion to their results as in other ordinary cases. 

It has been supposed, too, that his person and peculiar 
mental characteristics were the bond of union, which kept his 
church and parish together, and that when he should be re- 
moved, the massive body would fall to pieces. This expecta- 
tion has shared the same fate as many predictions of which 
Dr. Payson or his people were the subject. During the whole 
trying period in which they were without a pastor, their 
integrity was almost unexampled. Not a single defection 
took place ; proving that it was not his person only, but the 
influence of his doctrines, which united them as one. 

The truth is, no man ever gained a reputation as a preacher 
more fairly than Dr. Payson ; few men ever earned — if the ex- 
pression is allowable — more success. We have no need to call 
in the aid of magic, to account for the amazing influence which 
he exerted as a minister of Christ. This is best done by the 
simple history of the man — by a familiar acquaintance with 
what he was, and with what he did. The foundation of his 
eminence, and of his influence, was laid in a deep, experimen- 
tal knowledge of those spiritual subjects which constituted the 
themes of his addresses to his fellow men. This quality of a 
religious teacher has been well presented, and its influence 
illustrated, by a reviewer of his sermons in the Christian Spec- 
tator. Speaking of Dr. Payson, he remarks : — 

" Like the beloved apostle, whom he somewhat resembled 
in the strength of his imagination, and in the affections of his 
heart, he speaks as if from actual observation. His language, 
in the impression which it makes upon the mind, is, " That 
which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, 
which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled of 
the word of life, declare we unto you, that ye also may have 
fellowship with us." In perusing these sermons, it seems as 
if their author had actually seen with his own eyes the spirit- 
ual objects he describes, — that he had actually heard from 
Christ, talking with him face to face, the truths which he de- 
clares. The man who has thus seen spiritual objects with the 
clear eye of faith, is acquainted with them in their minutest 



EDWARD PAYSON. 393 

parts, and can therefore communicate instruction respecting 
them with a familiarity, clearness, and impressive interest, 
which we in vain look for in any other. There is the same 
difference between the sermons of such a man, and those of 
the man whose knowledge is derived more from the experi- 
ence of others than from his own, that there is in the descrip- 
tion of a country, by one who has drawn his information from 
books of travels, and that given by him who writes upon the 
spot, with the objects themselves before him.* A compilation, 
though made by an author of talents, cannot compare in interest 
with an original work by a man, even of inferior abilities, who, 
in addition to the means of knowledge possessed by the other, 
has enjoyed the advantage of personal observation. * * * 

'^ The professed theologian may give general views of th^ 
divine government, of its multiplied relations, of its friends 
and enemies ; he may present to his hearers — if we may ven- 
ture on the expression — the statistics of heaven and hell ; and 
yet what he says may consist of such meager statements, as to 
awaken but little interest in any except those who have made 
theology their study. A correct synopsis of Christian doc- 
trine is not the same as a full exhibition of practical Christian- 
ity. As a mere intellectual effort, an infidel can present an 
outline of the doctrines of the gospel ; but none but a pious 
man can write such a book as Wilberforce's Practical View of 
Christianity, because none but a pious man can have experi- 
enced what is there described in almost every page ; and, with- 
out experience, it would be as difficult to frame these descrip- 
tions, as for a blind man to write a work on colors. The more 
extensive the experience, the more minute will be the knowl- 
edge, and the more full its exhibition to others. There are 
degrees of spiritual illumination. Some Christian ministers 
do not see spiritual objects in as strong a light as others ; and 
while they suffer this partial darkness to remain in their minds, 
they cannot exhibit these objects to their hearers in their ut- 
most distinctness. Such a one may give correct general views, 
but they are comparatively cold and shadowy. He may use 
the same words which eminent Christians have used in describ- 
ing Christian experience, but they seem to stand as mere words 
in his mind. 

^' On the other hand, the author of the sermons under con- 
sideration evidently enjoyed a high degree of spiritual illumi- 
nation. He seems to have an abundant stock of materials in 
his own mind. He not only can present a general outline, but, 
like the traveller — to recur to our illustration — he can fill up the 
picture with what his own eyes have seen. When he men* 



394 MEMOIR OF 

tions failh and repentance, he speaks as one who has looked upon 
the very objects towards which these graces are directed ; and 
he is therefore able to make others see the same objects like- 
wise, and to feel as he has himself felt towards them. When 
he speaks of God, he speaks as if he had walked with him, and 
knew him intimately. When he describes the character of 
Christ, he describes it as if he had followed him closely, and 
knew exactly how he walked. He speaks of the Holy Ghost, 
as if he had felt his power upon his own souJ in his convin- 
cing and sanctifying influences. He speaks of hell, as if he 
himself had looked with agonizing fears through all its gloomy 
caverns. He speaks of heaven, as if he had, like Paul, been 
transported to the third heavens, and heard unspeakable words. 
There are many passages in his sermons, in which his vision 
pf heaven seems to be nearly as distinct as that which he en- 
joyed just before his death, as described in a letter to his sister. 

^r 'ff *7p ^r 

" The man who has had such visions of heaven, will speak 
of eternal realities with a truth that others will strive in vain 
to imitate ; and he will be listened to with the same deep feel- 
ing which the words of one would create, who had actually 
risen from the grave, and come back to his brethren of the hu- 
man family, to give them an account of the secrets of the in- 
visible world." 

His topics embraced the whole range of scriptural subjects. 
He had no hackneyed theme, no wearisome monotonousness 
of manner in treating it. Those subjects, for the recurrence 
of which there was the most frequent occasion, — such, for in- 
stance, as relate to the Saviour's death, which was commemo- 
rated monthly by his church, — never lost any of their interest 
under his treatment ; but were made to awaken a new train 
of thought and reflection, or were presented in some new rela- 
tion. Christ crucified was, indeed, an exhaustless theme. It 
was the " life of all his preaching. He every where gives 
most exalted views of Christ, beholding and declaring him as 
* God manifested in the flesh,' and invested with all the pre- 
rogatives and glories of Mediatorship. He sought continually 
to bring Christ before the eyes of sinners, for whom he had 
suflered, bled, and died. Christ was the sun of his system ; he 
referred every thing to him, and showed all truth, duty, hope, 
privilege, and happiness, as related to him. In a word, as 
Christ was every thing to his feelings, as a humble truster in 
his mercy, so he was every thing in the instructions which he 
imparted, a-s his minister. He had none of that affected scru- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 395 

pulousness of an erroneous conscience, which professes to 
shrink from giving to Christ * the glory due unto his name.' 
Him, as ' without controversy' the * brightness of the Father's 
glory, the express image of his person,' and who is * over all, 
God, blessed for ever,' he loved to worship, honor, preach, and 
show to dying men, as the * confidence of all the ends of the 
earth.' "* 

Dr. Payson was a preacher whom none could hear with in- 
difference. His discrimination of characters, and adaptation 
of truth to the different classes of hearers ; his skill in guiding 
the sword of the Spirit so as to pierce the consciences of the im- 
penitent, rendered it impossible for them to hear him unmoved. 
^' He showed an intimacy in the secret chambers of the hu- 
man heart, such as is gained only by much self-acquaintance, 
and accurate observation of men ; analyzed the operations of 
the unsanctified will and affections with peculiar skill ; told 
the sinner, with startling particularity, of things that passed in 
his breast: followed him into his hiding places, to allure and 
warn him away ; stated, with unshrinking faithfulness, hum- 
bling facts respecting his motives of action ; described his er- 
rors and self-deceptions with a fairness and exactness which 
could not easily be disputed ; showed the hazards of his un- 
scriptural dependences ; and, in the full blaze of Scripture 
light, set forth all the dangers and guilt of self-delusion."* If 
they went away from the sanctuary *^ filled with wrath," and 
determined to hear him no more, the resolution was but a 
thread of tow amidst the fires of conscience. 

" But he preached to the consciences of those in the church 
who were in a state of spiritual declension, as well as to those 
who were living in impenitence. While he who had confess- 
edly no hope, and the self-deceived, were made to tremble, the 
wanderer from the fold of Christ was also made to feel and to 
confess, * I have sinned ; what shall I say V Come, and let 
us return unto the Lord.' "* 

* In his preaching he was accustomed to discriminate close- 
ly between religion in name and profession, and religion in 
fact : to present the high and serious tests furnished by the 
word of God ; to render careful and faithful assistance to the 
professing Christian, in ascertaining the presence or absence 
of grace. This was not done in a way of random skepticism, 
into which ministers and private Christians sometimes fall, 
and in which painful uncertainty about one's spiritual state is 
still unrelieved by fair examination. It was a discrimination 

* Spirit of the Pilgrims. 



396 MEMom OP 

made by presenting the Scripture view of the evidences of 
grace, and the Scripture account of the modes and dangers of 
mistake respecting the existence of those evidences.' 

'* The preaching of Dr. Payson was well adapted to ' feed the 
church of God/ and to promote the advancement of Christians 
in the divine life. With him this was an object of more than 
common thought and labor. Bunyan's character of Great 
Heart exhibits the qualifications of the spiritual Shepherd in 
an interesting manner, and many of the features of it were 
discernible in the discourses of Dr. Payson. To elevate and 
enliven the faith of Christians, to increase the fervor of their 
love, to assist them to obtain and keep lowly views of them- 
selves, to promote the tenderness of godly sorrow, and like- 
wise to animate their joys, confirm their hopes, promote the 
increase and steadiness of their comforts, and to incite them to 
press forward and mount upward in their preparation for heav- 
en, were the objects of much of his preaching. He sought 
to promote in Christians the progress and enjoyments of holi- 
ness in heart and life. He loved to witness Christian activity 
and faithfulness, and preached a religion to be lived, and which 
would make its possessors to shine as lights in the world. 
He had his heart fixed on the promotion, in himself and oth- 
ers, of holiness, elevated, dwelling in daily communion with 
God, and made active in view of the cross of Christ, of the 
judgment to come, and of the prospect of heaven. And his 
conceptions of the obligations resting on the people of God to 
live in the exercise of such holiness, were vivid and solemn. The 
views he was accustomed to give of Christian character were 
not of that well adjusted ' form of godliness,' in which ' a name 
to live' may be preserved ; but he exhibited the Christian of 
the Bible, loving holiness and seeking it, hating sin and fly- 
ing from it ; — he brought out the elements of grace, as to be 
manifested in living and active faithfulness."* 

He was distinguished for his " entire devotedness to the 
spiritual welfare of his hearers. He might have had a practi- 
cal acquaintance with the truths of the Christian religion, and 
skill in selecting those truths that are adapted to the character 
of his hearers, and a powerful imagination in presenting those 
truths in such a manner as to make an impression ; still, with- 
out this devotedness of feeling to the spiritual welfare of his 
hearers, he never could have exerted that moral power upon 
their minds, which attended his ministrations. It has ever 
been true, that those who have distinguished themselves on the 

* Spirit of the Pil^ims. 



EDWARD PAYSON. gg- 

tZir^^^T °*".''"T" ^ rT*'''"' •" ^'■*"' '" ^™«' in science, and 
in moral enterprise, have likewise been distinguished for the en- 
thusiasm with which they have followed the object of their 
pursuit. Such a state of mind quickens the intellect; for it 
has almost passed into a maxim with the masters of mental 
science that the conceptions are vivid in proportion to the ex- 
citement of the feelings. It moreover renders the mind in- 
genious in discovering and creating means for the accomplish- 
ment of the object; 'Love will find a way ;' and it likewise 
prompts to perseverance in the application of these means 
His sermons were prepared under the influence of an intense 
desire to be instrumental in leading his people to the cross of 
Christ for salvation. To accomplish this, all the faculties of 
his soul were concentrated; when he knelt at the mercy-seat 
his people were earnestly commended to God ; when he looked 
abroad on nature, that other book of God's revelation, he was 
always m search of motives to duty ; when he was engaaed in 
sev-ere study or m reading books of taste, he was still ahnin<r 
either directly or indirectly, at promoting the spiritual welfare 
oi his people,— that ' by any means he might win some.' Ev- 
ery thing was subservient to this object. Having a full heart 
and a toll mmd, persuasion dwelt upon his lips. He felt emo- 
tion, and therefore expressed it. His heart is always awake. 
His zeal for the house of God glowed in his breast Hke a con- 
suming passion ; it wasted the powers of life."* 

That his mode of exhibiting the truths of the gospel was 
pre-eminently felicitous, we have one very pleasin| proof in 
the tenacity with which his instructions are remembered t 
1 his testimony to the completeness of his qualifieations " as a 
workman that needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the 
word of truth," still exists in hundreds of hearts. " His vvords 
were as nails fastened in a sure place, leaving stino-s in the 
mind, and bidding defiance even to a bad memory to forget " ' 
A specimen of his pulpit discourses is already before the 
publtf,, and will speak their own defence. That they want 
much, which gave them interest and effect in the delivery 
IS known by all who knew him. A ministering brother, at a 
distance, after he had read the volume, thus wrote—" That 
speaking eye, and thrilling tone, and those flashes of holy fire, 

* Christian Spectator. 

t The editor of his posthumous sermons, during the proOTCss of the volume 
in auswenng mqmnes respecting them, was freq^uently iiftemmted wkh-" f 
hope such a se.inon w.ll be one"-the subject being named aTt?^ same time 
whn h^H h"^^' ^Tv.'*^' "°'/''"" '"habitants of Portland only, but from olh™!' 
who had changed this residence for another, from five to fifteen yearsTefore ' 



398 MEMOIR OF 

and that countenance, which at times seemed more than 
mortal, I do not indeed find. Probably most of those glowing 
illustrations and irresistible appeals were made, even when he 
had a written discourse before him, from the inspiration of the 
moment. Still there is so much of the original in these 
pieces, that the lineaments of his celestial soul can be easily 
traced. — His eloquence was, in the language of Milton, '* the 
serious and hearty love of truth ; his mind fully possessed with 
a fervent desire to know good things, arid with the dearest 
charity to infuse the knowledge of them into others. When 
such a man would speak, his words, like so many nimble and 
airy servitors, trip abo tit him at command, and in well-ordered 
files, as he woilld wish, fall aptly into their own places. '' 

The '"amount of service which he v/as enabled to perform is 
not the least surprising fact in his history. Almost continually 
sinking under the exhausting effects of a diseased and debil- 
itated frame, he was, nevertheless, *' in labors more abundant" 
than most who have no such infirmities to depress them. That 
lie ventured beyond his strength, and often exceeded the 
bounds of prudence and duty, is very true ; but it was, on the 
whole, a wise and happy arrangement of Providence, which 
assicrned him his station where the calls to exertion were fre- 
quent and urgent. The regret which it is impossible not to feel 
at his premature departure, 'hastened as it was by his incessant 
toils, mental aild bodily, in his Master's cause, is alleviated by the 
reflection, that, with his constitution and susceptibilities, a mo- 
derate degree' of exertion was incompatible. Beyond all doubt, 
his life, if passed in a state of comparative inaction, would have 
much sooner terminated : his sun miglit have set in darkness, 
and the remembrance of him perished from the earth. But 
God had '' provided better things for him," and his memory is 
blessed. 

That he had preached the gospel fully and faithfully, not 
shunning to declare the whole counsel of God, he iiad the 
testimony of his conscience, in the near prospect of the last 
tribunal. To repeated interrogatories in relation to this point, 
his answers were full and unequivocal. 

The "religion which he preached and exemplified in life 
sustained him in the hour when flesh and heart failed, and 
shed unclouded light on his passage to the unseen world. — 
And shall we say — we here borrow the language employed by 
a valued brother on occasion of his death — '' Shall we say that 
all this was delusion, and an unsubstantial vision ? Shall we 
imagine that this most active mind is now extinct ? that this 
se ant and friend of Jesus Christ is annihilated, is /o5/.^ Has 



EDWARD PAYSON. 399 

the tempest stolen him away ? Long tossed on the billows, has 
he been swallowed up by the deep ? Oh, no ! But, as God is 
true, we believe he has entered a secure haven, where the 
storm is not heard, — where the agitation of the elements is not 
felt, — where no wave of trouble ever breaks upon the peaceful 
shore, — where not a ripple disturbs the deep serenity, which 
reflects to the astonished eye the beauty, and brightness, and 
majesty of the skies/' 



400 



"BEHOLD THY MOTHERS" 

E scene at the death-bed of Dr. Payson, described on page 370; has been 

happily expanded in the following- beautiful lineS; from the chaste and fruitful 

en of Mrs. Sigourney . The eldest son, in this case^ is not the eldest child j 

ut who can regret an innocent mistake, which has furnished the occasion nf 

o much tenderness and beauty 1 

What said the eye? — The marble lip spake not, 
Save in that quivering sob with which stern Death 
Doth crush life's harp-strings. — Lo I again it pours 
A tide of more than utter'd eloquence — 
'' Son ! — look upon thy mother !" — and retires 
Beneath the curtain of the drooping lids, 
To hide itself forever. 'Tis the last, 
Last glance ! — and mark how tenderly it fell 
Upon that lov'd companion, and the groups 
That wept around. — Full well the dying knew 
The value of those holy charities 
Which purge the dross of selfishness away ; 
And deep he felt that woman's trusting heart 
Rent from the cherish'd prop, which, next to Christ, 
Had been her stay in all adversities, 
Would take the balm-cup best from that dear hand 
Which woke the sources of maternal love, — 
That smile, whose winning paid for sleepless nights 
Of cradle-care, — that voice, whose murmured tones 
Her own had moulded to the words of prayer.- — 
How soothing to a widow'd mother's breast 
Her first-born's sympathy ! 

Be strong, young man ! — 
Lift the protector's arm, — the healer's prayer ! — 
Be tender in thy every word and deed. 
A Spirit watcheth thee ! — Yes, he who pass'd 
From shaded earth up to the full-orb'd day, 
Will be thy witness in the court of heaven 
How thou dost bear his mantle. 

So farewell. 
Leader in Israel ! — Thou whose radiant path 
Was like the angel's standing in the sun,* 
Undazzled and unswervinnr, — it was meet 
That thou shouldst rise to liofht without a clou 1. 



ilcv'jlalion, xix. 17. 



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